


If Only We Had More Time

by Animebrains



Series: What is love? [2]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King, IT Chapter One - Fandom, IT Chapter Two - Fandom
Genre: Aged Up, Angst, Dealing with hypochondria, Dealing with puberty, Fluff, Growing Up, M/M, Making Out, Munchausen Syndrome by Proxy, Part two of a series., Slight Smut, Slow Burn, dealing with internalized homophobia, dealing with parental abuse, eddie is a brave boy, friendship fluff, mostly about abuse and body issues, slight explicit stuff, teenage experimentation, they are now 16 going on 17
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-30
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2021-02-01 02:10:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 41,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21329362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Animebrains/pseuds/Animebrains
Summary: The losers, were now all 16. For Eddie, growing up wasn’t adventurous or nostalgic. It was filled with fears and phobias, and watching the people he loved grow up and leave. He was always confused and scared and god did he hate puberty. But most of all he hated, the fact that he could not stop thinking about Richie Tozier when he went to bed at night.
Relationships: Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Eddie Kaspbrak & Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Richie Tozier/Eddie Kasprak
Series: What is love? [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1520972
Comments: 14
Kudos: 79





	1. Bird watching

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The losers, were now all 16. For Eddie, growing up wasn't adventurous or nostalgic. It was filled with fears and phobias, and watching the people he loved grow up and leave. He was always confused and scared and god did he hate puberty. But most of all he hated, the fact that he could not stop thinking about Richie Tozier when he went to bed at night.

Eddie's earliest memories, happened to also be the only memories he had of his father. 

When his dad died of cancer, he had only been 5. And he doesn't remember much of his childhood, yet somehow, vague memories of his father stayed intact. 

It was like they were fighting to prevail, Eddie's brain not wanting to ever let go to the loose strings. Scrapping to not forget the way his dad would snort when he laughed, and patted Eddie's back hard whenever he did something particular funny. 

One of his favorite moments was when his dad had sneaked him out, after his mom was mad one day, something about the laundry. He ended up buying him as much ice cream as he wanted, Eddie felt like his brain was rattling around in his skull, the sugar rush pumping him with energy. 

Eddie clung onto his father's shoulders, riding him like a backpack, cone in hand, the chocolate Icecream melting down his fingers. He didn't care, just held on, and let his dad take him wherever. "Hold on tight little dude!" 

Eddie would grin, his two front teeth still not grown in, and his dad would smile back, bright and warm and inviting. "Let me show you a fun game." 

Eddie didn't quite understand the game, all the boys really did was throw a ball around, hit it with a stick really hard and then run. But his dad enjoyed it, eyes watching the team, as he ate his hotdog. 

He had gotten Eddie popcorn, peanuts, a pretzel. Anything his heart desired. He never worried if Eddie was allergic to anything, he never pestered him about what to eat. That was Eddie's favorite part of the memory. 

He remembered the way his dad's eyes would light up, watching as the teams would run. Like he wish that were him, back in his youth. 

Eddie always thought his mommy probably was so worried about Eddie because of his dad's death. 

For Eddie though, It wasn't sudden. His dad had been sick since he was born, so all he ever really knew was his father's constant struggles. It became the norm. He wish he would have known his father before he was sick, before he needed to go to the hospital every week, and needed to take so many medicines he almost lost track. He had only ever known his father as someone who was sick. Who was tired all the time, and was steadily losing a lot of his hair, but despite all that, still found the strength to smile. He would pick Eddie up, and allow him to sit in his lap, cracking a joke just to see Eddie laugh. 

He smelt like hospitals but also black coffee and butterscotch candies. He was warm, however the tips of his fingers were always cold, almost sickly. Eddie would ignore it though, cause he liked sitting in his dad's lap and listen to the radio shows with him. 

They would read the newspaper, watch the tv, or maybe color. But all the activities had to involve sitting. His dad wasn't very mobile, it was hard for him to do much. At the time Eddie didn't know, but his dad was in a lot of pain, but kept that smile bright whenever he saw Eddie. 

They would listen to the baseball games over the radio, and his dad would cheer when his team got a point. Eddie would join along, not really understanding, but when his dad would cheer, he would hop off his lap and bounce up and down, jumping as high as he could, and screeching in victory. 

His dad would always laugh so hard, and clap, excitedly pumping his fist in the air as Eddie ran around the living room. 

"I wish, I could run like you Edward. I wish I could just, run, and run, and race every car in this town. And leap, and do cartwheels. I used to run track in high school, did you know that, my little dude?" His dad looked up thoughtfully, at his old senior photos on top of the fireplace. 

Eddie didn't really fully understand what his dad would talk to, but it didn't matter, it made him happy to listen. "No I didn't know that pa." 

His father would grin, and look down at him. "Yeah. Well. One day little dude. I hope, I can see you run, watch you beat a cheetah in a race. I know you can, you're the fastest kid I know." 

Eddie laughed, "I can run really fast pa!! Watch!" And then, Eddie would proceed to run in one continuous tiny circle next to the coffee table, around and around until he was dizzy. 

His mother would be worried, watching from the kitchen. "Frank he could fall and hit his head on the coffee table." 

"He will be fine!" He piped back, waving a dismissive hand. It was what his dad will always answer back, every single time. "Let a kid be a kid!" 

Eddie is pretty sure, his father truly loved him more then anything, probably more then he loved his own wife. And Eddie really loved his dad. 

He knew, his dad didn't have a long time to live, he knew because his dad would always say it. "It's okay Edward, one day, pa's gotta go into the clouds in the sky. And I promise, I'll wait for ya little guy. You'll be strong, and smart, and you'll know how to get by without your old man. And I know when I see you again, I'll be more proud then I can imagine." And Eddie would nod, and say he understood and that he was prepared. 

To a existent, he was. 

Finding his father dead, on the recliner in the living room, was not something he thought he would have to prepare for however. 

That day, was one of the worse days of his life. 

After that, everything in his life had changed, so drastically, it felt like a tornado destroyed their house and took everything with it. From that point forward, each new day, would be the worse day of his life. 

All the photos of his dad were put away, in a box, shoved up in a attic, the chair he would always sit on, was thrown away, all his clothes packed away as well. Every little thing that indicated the presence of his father, was stripped away from the house. 

It was like his dad, was suddenly out of his life as quickly as he had died, and all he had left, was midnight dreams, and the memories of his soft voice calling him 'little dude'  
___________________

High school, at first, was pretty rough. But also, surprisingly okay. In a, at least it isn't a killer clown trying to eat you kind of okay. Definitely not as bad as middle school, since Bowers was now no longer the head of the snake that was school. 

But alas, there is a new head, to replace the absence of Bowers, a new hierarchy. Figures, no matter what, a new power will always lead after the death of the previous. 

Though Eddie is pretty sure, death might be too literal a word to use for this situation. 

This time it was Greta Keene, and a few of the other girls who followed her around absently, not really her friends, just girls pretty enough and desperate enough to listen to her, as to not be the victims themselves. Besides a few mix ups with Beverley in middle school however, Greta has basically avoided the losers. No one really knew why, but they were happy to be spared from being bullied freshman year. For however long that may last. 

Freshman year was the worse year for Eddie. Not academically or really anything involving school. Those were actually some of the positives. He ended up sharing every single class with Bill, always making sure to sit next to him, so they could share notes and draw in Bill's journal. 

Mike had every other class with Eddie, so it was refreshing to have at least some of his friends with him. But besides that, the only other persons he had class with was Stan, and that was during gym. Both of them usually stayed on the side lines, not wanting to get filthy. Eddie also knew his mother didn't like him doing any physical activity. So it worked out. 

Ben and Beverley had home economics together, and often made cupcakes and cookies for the group. Basically using them as test subjects. Which no one complained. Richie however, didn't have any classes with anyone in the group, except for one writing class with Bill and Stan. 

Besides that, he was, astonishingly, in advanced AP classes. Every. Single. One.

It had perplexed everyone, somehow Richie managed to never mention his grades when in middle school. But apparently he was, a academic marvel. Its just that his work ethic lacked severely. It had made Eddie question all those nights Richie spent in his bedroom, trying to copy Eddie's homework, when really, Richie would more likely have all the correct answers. 

Time passes. It's inevitable, forever the world will run on a ticking time bomb, and all we can do is make what little time we have, the best. Much easier and cheesier to say then actually do. 

But no, really the reason freshman year had been the worse, was because Eddie began going through puberty, much to his and his own mother's dismay. And with that new development, Eddie began looking at the world differently. Richie being one of the main subjects plaguing his head. 

But freshman year was over, replaced by more years of tedious work, and self growth. Gross. 

"Oh common Stan. Again?" Richie whines, slamming his head in a loud 'thud' on the lunch room table. "I have a test next week you know I need to study." 

Stan snorts, like that was the funniest thing Richie had ever said in his life. It probably was.

"Richie you have never studied a single day of your miserable academic career." Stan utters matter-of-factly. 

"Then why am I a straight A student?" Richie grins, flicking at the hair covering his eyes. Probably the only thing straight about him. 

"Pure, dumb, luck." Stanley says bitter, but, he knew it wasn't true. Richie was truly smart, the fucker didn't ever even try. And something about that, destroyed a part of Stan. Everyone else had to study, stay up and pull all nighters, do extra credit work, and suffer trying to juggle extracurriculars. And Richie, could come to class late, high off his ass, and still pass with flying colors. 

"Well either way. Why, do I have to come and look at damn birds with you?" Richie sighed, pressing his long, lanky, annoyingly tall body on to Eddie's, basically crushing him with his weight. 

That damn growth spurt. 

It was a terrible summer to say the least, Richie had fucking sky rocketed 5 inches basically over night, now at a solid 5'11 (though if someone asks he's 6ft) Richie towers over the rest of the losers. Bill being second contender at 5'10. 

It wouldn't have been so horrible if it weren't for the fact that Eddie found it kind of attractive. In that weird way you find your childhood friend attractive. His awkward, dorky body matching his personality, no one in their right mind would find Richie appealing as of right now, he was in that weird middle transitional faze during puberty that just made him look like a elf on a shelf decided to mate with a troll doll. Yet Eddie couldn't help but let his eyes drift to Richie's face when he would speak or laugh. Watching the way he would bite his nails when he was anxious, or the way he would shake his legs in boredom. 

Unfortunately, Richie was fucking cute, and too damn tall, it made Eddie blush every time he would have to crane his head back to look up at Richie when they spoke. Even worse however? How easy it was for him to now lift Eddie up and throw him over his shoulder, his arms wrapping around his waist, engulfing Eddie on his strong grasp. It made Eddie think about Richie in different ways then he would have thought he ever could feel about him, that is until he starts tossing Eddie into the filthy lake, laughing when Eddie slashes into the water screaming. 

"Heyo." Beverley calls, as she moves to sit between Stan and Richie at the lunch table. "What up nerds?" 

"Stan wants us to go bird watching again." Richie complains to her, pressing his face into the crook of her neck, pulling her into his lap as she laughed and wrapped her arms around his neck, petting his hair. 

"I don't wanna go." He complains, snuggling up into her. 

Eddie knew, he understood that Bev and Richie were just best friends, and that they in particular are the most effectionate people in the group, so naturally they would be perfectly comfortable with kissing each other on the lips to say hi or goodbye, or sitting in each other's laps. Eddie knew he shouldn't feel jealous, and that he didn't even have the right to feel that way. It wasn't like he owned Richie, that was a choice Eddie made. 

Richie was just respecting his decision. He didn't make any moves on Eddie, he was polite, sometimes, and gave Eddie all the time in the world to think about things. His feelings. What he wanted. 

What did he want? 

Not to mention, last year Richie had made sure to update everyone on the status that he was pretty sure he mostly gay, after one particular bi-curious night and making out with a few girls at the end of the school year. He basically hated all of it. Though he still isn't fully sure. "I'm still in that figuring things out faze. Maybe I'm gay, or maybe I just don't like those girls in particular." Whatever it was, it supported the the fact that Eddie didn't have to worry, logically. 

But it still didn't stop him from feeling jealous. 

"I just need to find a few more species for the scrapbook and my profolio will be perfect."

"Then why do I need to go with you?" Richie sneered, obviously fed up with the excuses. 

Beverley sighed, laughing into Richie's hair for a moment. "Stan, do you want to tell Richie what we are actually doing?" 

"No I want to make him complain a little more" Stan flared back, as Beverley spoke up for him. 

"We are using birdwatching as a cover. Really we will be planning Mike's birthday party." 

Richie lit up at the notion, both excited about the event, and relieved there involved no watching of birds. 

"Awe yes. Grandpa will be hitting 17. WOWZA. He is going to be so old." Richie laughed. 

"He will be a dancing queen!" Beverly giggles under her breath, shoving her fries into her mouth. 

Stan rolls his eyes. "Just wait until you are like 40 or something. Then start talking about being old." 

Richie chuckled, bumping his head into Beverley's lightly, "bold of you to assume I'll live that long." 

Eddie didn't like hearing Richie talk like that. But he didn't say anything.

He never did. Talking about his feelings, was something he always, struggled with. 

He just sat back, watching the table, as Bill finally sat down with his tray of food, Ben next to him. They started going over the plans for Mike's birthday, each pitching different ideas. Eddie however, just stared at Richie, something about the slight crookedness of his glasses made him want to reach out and fix them on his nose. I wanted to touch him. His hair, his cheeks, his lips. 

Eddie looked away, turning back to eating the crappy cafeteria food.  
___________________

~~~  
"It's okay. Take your time. All the time you need. I don't want to rush you, or push you or anything. I know. How it feels. You know. And god, if I have to wait, to kiss you, I'll wait till the end of time Eds."

Eddie knew he was blushing, the familiar electric excitement rushing through his veins when he cuddled closer into Richie. "Thank you" he whispered, moving to rest his hand on Richie's chest. He wants to feel his pulse under his fingers, the way his chest heaves up and down when he breathes. It's relaxing. 

It was a miracle that their friendship didn't become rocky after the kiss. It was good their dynamic didn't shift just because Eddie now knew Richie Tozier was in love with him. 

Richie Tozier was in love with him. 

It's lulling, just that sentiment. Something about it made goosebumps rise on his arms. 

Eddie was so sure, love meant being overpowered, and mothered. Force to not do anything, and to be doted on 24/7. To receive worried calls during sleep overs, have fake medications prescribed to him and to have freedoms taken away. 

But with Richie, he felt free, Richie wouldn't treat him like he could break any minute, and sure Richie worried, but he trusted Eddie more then anything. Trusted him to take care of himself, to know his own limit, to be safe, and let him make his own choice, not make them for him. 

And that never changed. 

Their relationship however, did change. But for the better. They were closer now, more upfront, and Richie would be unabashed about flirting with Eddie. 

Eddie enjoyed the attention, and let it drag on for a good while, but the more he dragged it on, the less fire Richie had in return. The less flirting, and sly touches. He didn't know if it was because Richie no longer felt that way, or because he had given up on Eddie returning his feelings. 

Eddie, felt bad, he did. But he never mentioned it. He always kept it swallowed down. 

The kiss, it was shocking, and crazy, and Eddie had wanted it at the time. But now, he was confused. Was he really gay? At the time he had just said it, because he wanted to— well.. Kiss Richie. Which should be a indecator that you are gay. 

But maybe not. 

Or maybe that was just because he didn't want it to be true so badly, that he had to trick himself into being confused. 

What the fuck does that even mean.

It was so confusing, and a lot to handle. What if he was faking it, and was just stringing Richie along, playing with his feelings. What if Eddie just confused friendship love with romantic love. Maybe Eddie is too young to really know if he is anything other then straight. 

There were so many options it was overwhelming. 

They ended up not kissing, after that, for years. Getting close once when they finished sophomore year, at Beverley's birthday party. Richie got drunk for the first time, and tried to kiss Eddie. And Eddie almost gave in, but knew it was wrong to kiss someone when they were under the influence. Not to mention the smell of alcohol in his breath reeked.

Eddie doesn't like to think about what that means about him. That he had almost gave in. He ignored the implementations. He was getting good at it too.

Junior year, Richie had been testing out other people. All usually girls, because of course Richie couldn't quite come out publicly yet. 

And Eddie had realized, he was getting more and more jealous with each girl that approached Richie. 

Luckily that was also the same year, Mike stop being homeschooled. He was a very calming presence and helped keep Eddie from murdering cheerleaders. 

Mike was adapting to normal school, and with Eddie in all his classes, he made it a goal to make the transition as painless as possible for Mike. Giving him tips, passing him his notes, or helping him after school. 

But that took a toll on Eddie as well. His grades. They were slowly dropping, not enough for his mother to notice, but he sure as hell did. 

And it made his skin crawl, like he was waiting for a tiger to pounce. Any week now, and his mother will know, and will blame his friends for it. The idea of loosing privileges like hanging out with the other losers, was a horrifying one. 

Eddie's relationship with his mother, was frankly like walking on glass, already shattered, and is purposely pointed upwards. 

Three years ago when he told his mother he discovered his medications, his constant doctors appointments, his sicknesses and allergy's were fake. He thought that it would be the end of it. But it just forced her hand, into being more overbearing, controlling. He didn't think it was possible but leave it to his mother to prove him wrong. 

Munchausen syndrome by proxy is what Mike would tell him it was, after a few days in the library. A sickness, that caused his mom to be that way. 

The warning signs of MSP in the caretaker include:  
• attention-seeking behavior.  
• striving to appear self-sacrificing and devoted.  
• becoming overly involved with doctors and medical staff.  
• refusing to leave the child's side.  
• exaggerating the child's symptoms or speaking for the child.  
• being a total bitch.

But whatever it is, whatever was wrong with her. Didn't justify her treatment of him. The mental damage she caused, and the anxiety he is riddled with to this day, the long lasting effects that will over run his life in the future. 

Eddie was like a ticking time bomb of Mysophobia, his tiny body could only handle so much fear and paranoia when it came to that stupid fucking clown. But with the addition of germs? Sicknesses, the outside world, living life. Breathing. Everything was his enemy. 

That woman and Eddie both seriously need therapy. Unfortunately, but also fortunately, only Bill so far is getting that. 

Which is wonderful for him. 

But ironically, while Eddie's mother will take him to the emergency room for even coughing more then once, or any fundamentally minute health need. When it comes to mental health, suddenly that passion flies out the door, and she becomes neglectful. His well being and happiness are one in the same. A person cannot be well unless they are also emotionally stable, and happy. But too many times parents seem to think that's a privilege not a necessity.

"EDDIE BEAR!" It still rings in his ears, her screechy voice thumping against his skull, rattling around annoyingly.

He had just turned 15, which was fine. Every person grows up. But he started growing body hair, which isn't something you think about until it happens. It was embarrassing enough without his mother flipping out over the idea of her baby boy growing. 

Do not touch yourself. 

Do not look at girls in a filthy way.

Do not talk about naughty things.

Do not act upon those thoughts.

Do not even have those thoughts.

Unfortunately, his brain had a agenda of its own. He made a conscious effort to follow those rules, but unconsciously he couldn't be so responsible. 

His first wet dream, was, in all sense of the word, perplexing. He didn't know, well frankly how to process it. 

It wasn't just dirty and sexual, but also gay. And about his friend. Everything about it was just wrong. It felt like he violated Richie's trust by having these types of thoughts about him. It felt like he just violated Richie in general by imagining him in that context. The mix of both erotic feelings and deep seated shame took him over ten fold when his mother found out. 

He didn't want her too, if he had just woken up a little bit earlier, he could have cleaned himself up and hid the evidence. But nothing ever went well for Eddie. 

"Oh my goodness Eddie!" She yelled, causing his body to jerk awake, panic flying over his features and setting deep into the creases of his muscles as his gaze lands on his mother. 

"You pee'd yourself!" 

He quickly looked down at his boxers, to see a large wet stain in front of them. For a moment he believed her, until flashes of his dream flickered into his memory. He flushed a deep red, obviously embarrassed, and overwhelmed. 

The last thing he wanted after having a dream like that, was to wake up to see first thing in the morning, his mother's face towering over his bed. 

He tried to relax, though the tenseness of his mother's hands on his shoulders made it a difficult task. 

"Oh. Well. It must had been a nightmare then." He tried to explain, getting better and better lying through his teeth. 

She simply stared at him, her eyed boring into his chest and causing him to shake with anticipation. He knew too well what that look meant. 

"I do not need to be here mom. I told you! I'm fine! How many times do I need to tell you?" He struggled in her grasp, trying to pull his arm away from her as she stomped down the entrance of the hospital. 

This was the second time this month, she had dragged him to the hospital, making up worse and worse excuses because Eddie truly wasn't sick. She just needed to feel needed. She desperately wanted a sick child despite her claims otherwise. Peeing yourself was hardly even close to warrant a hospital visit, and he hadn't even pissed himself himself in the first place, but here they are again, for whatever reason she seems to justify. 

God the smell. 

He hates the smell of the hospital, stale. Bleached floors and dim lights. From the feeling of the roaming halls, and the wall of doctors and patients, walking amongst each other like depressed zombies. 

The long drawn out quiet nights, with empty halls echoing nothing but the lost voices of those who gave up. 

It was draining. Maddening. AND THE BEEPING.

The constant fucking beeping, of heart monitors, and low whispers between nurses and families. The crying, the wailing. 

The needles. God did Eddie fucking hate the needles. He felt like he would vomit everytime he had to look at one of them. The feeling of them being shoved into his arm, or used to take his blood: purely just to get his mother to leave. The bruises the insertion would leave on his arms, a constant nagging reminder of the insanity his mother put him through. 

The IV's, the curtains between the hospital bed and the door, the bathroom with handle bars and emergency buttons. The fucking food.

The itchy light blue gowns, that didn't even cover your ass. The socks with rubber on the feet, and the hourly checkups by a nurse that doesn't want to be there as much as you. 

Everything about hospitals set off some deep seeded PTSD of sorts. Triggering his fight or flight responses, and he's getting close to throwing some punches, if he isn't out of this damn building soon. 

She thought his bladder wasn't working, or some stupid bullshit like that. He didn't care to listen to her theories because he knew the answer. It was a wet dream. He just desperately didn't want her to know that. 

It's almost priceless, the look on the doctors faces when they see her. They always roll their eyes, sigh heavy or even try and avoid her. It never works though. She's too persistent, she always gets her way. 

They explain to her, that Eddie is fine, and that it was normal to pee a little after a nightmare. They give a apologetic look towards Eddie. They know just as much as she is annoying them right now, he has to deal with it, every day. 

After a few more hours of pressuring the doctors for answers that don't exist, they leave. 

When they get home, Eddie hops out the car, rushing into the house as fast as possible, hoping to lock himself away in his room and never deal with her again. 

That dream lasts all of 2 minutes. 

Her knuckles knock rapidly against the door before she's barging in, (not that it mattered, she took the locks off his door years ago) not even waiting for a answer. That quickly erases any hope in his brain. 

"Take these" she commands, handing Eddie a few pills she shook out of a bottle. He's taken about by the sudden demand. He glances at the label. They are muscle relaxers. 

"What are these?" He questions, not attempting to reach out. She huffs frustrated, grabbing his hand and forcing the medication into his palm. 

"They will make you better." She says, like a record on repeat. 

"But there's nothing wrong with m—"

"YES. There IS. There is something very wrong with you, and you questioning me is getting out of hand." Her voice sound like shattered window panes, and made the hair on the back of his neck spike up. 

"That's because I'm educated—"

"That's because you are learning LIES." She barks, urging his hand to his mouth. "Now take them. They'll make you better. Make you not feel anymore." Her eyes watched him with a intensity that could scare a bull. Once, she was a haven of love and safety. But overtime he learned the worse types of monsters are the ones who hide their faces until they are behind closed doors. 

He stares at the white tablets on his hands, "fine." He whispered pathetically, popping them into his mouth, never daring to break eye contact with her. The taste instantly makes him gag, face scrunching up from the chalky bitter flavor. "I need water." He complains, getting up and shuffling to the bathroom.

Slowly he closes the door behind him, waiting till he hears his mother walk past the bathroom and spits out the pills into the toilet. The taste still lingers in his mouth when he flushes them down, watching them swirl around in the water until they were sucked away into the sewers. Evil pills for a evil place. 

He tries to hold in the tears that threaten to prickle in his eyes, knowing he had the power again. He got to chose what went into his body, and that he knew better then his mother. Gripping onto the sink, he takes in a deep lulling breath, collecting himself.

Turning back around the open the door, his heart shoots up into his throat when he is met with his mother, standing where the door should be. She seems furious, and his body breaks out into goosebumps. He feels so small under her gaze. 

She grabs his arm and rips him from the bathroom, pulling him back into his room. 

His mother had never been one to physically abuse Eddie. She never hit him, never did the things Richie's parents did to him, she rarely yelled. She didn't fail to feed him, she never burned him, she never threaten to kill him. So what right did he have to complain? 

Richie would be upset with Eddie for comparing their situations. Abuse is abuse. Still he didn't think what he was going through was as bad. Was it? 

None of his thoughts however, were able stop his knees from going weak and the tears rolling from his ducts as he shook his head violently, crying out. "No-no please I'm sorry! I'm sorry. Please! I'm sorry." He didn't even know what he was begging her not to do, but he knew he didn't want it.

He was shaking when she forced him down into the bed, grip on his arm tight, two new pills already in her hand as she pinched his nose with the other. When his mouth opened wide to gasp for air, she grabbed his jaw, keeping in place, as she forced the pills down his throat. 

He gagged, body instantly rejecting the intrusion. He could feel her fingers press into his airway, tears screamed down his cheeks as he struggled to get away, her fingers relentless as she pushed them down, blocking his ability to breath until he had no choice but to swallow. 

And when she pulled away he let out a wail, crying out as he held onto his throat, shaking from head to toe. 

He couldn't even bring himself to look at her. 

"This is for your own good." She tries to coo, voice warm. But it felt like needles, horrible, horrible needles. 

"I know better then you. You are naïve, and stupid. You don't know what is good for you. But I do. I do this because I love you." 

He laid there, for a while, trying to calm down. She left the room a little after, and he knew that this time around he should listen to the flight instinct scratching at the inside of his skull. 

And when he climbed into Richie's window that night, he was welcomed with opened arms, and soft whispers. "It's gonna be okay Ed's." He murmured, kissing Eddie's temple, while carding his hand through his hair. 

Eddie cried with Richie's arms around him, the faint bruises left on his arm however, wasn't as painful as the words rattling in his head. Was he stupid? Was he naïve? Was that love? 

And then his walls fall down, listening to the steady breath coming from Richie as he snuggled tighter into Eddie's side, nuzzling his face into the crook of Eddie's neck, until all he could feel was the butterfly tickle of his breathing on his skin. Richie was warm, and safe, and smelled like what comfort felt like. Eddie believed every word he said when he let out a symphony of words. 

"You're braver then you think. And you're so smart. You're strong, and caring, and fucking amazing Eds." Eddie didn't even bother to correct the nickname and that night slept soundly for once, tucked between the long arms of Richie Tozier and the bedroom wall.

________________

The present was a treasure Eddie wish he could keep in his pocket, and protect for the rest of his life. The past, was something to move on from, and he sure as hell was trying to.

And right now, Eddie was moving from depressing memories, to throwing a (to quote Richie) a bomb ass birthday party. 

As planned, the losers meet up after school, though it was a Thursday so they can't stay out too late, it didn't stop them from making the most of it. 

Eddie finished with the last bit of streamers, before stepping back and looking at his work. The bright blue and red decorating the ceiling of their clubhouse made everything feel more partyish.

In all honesty Mike would be happy with a pile of mud and a hug, as long as all his friends were there. But he deserved something nice damn it, and they were gonna give it to him. 

With one last touch up, Ben comes climbing down the ladder, a giddy grin on his lips. "Alright, I told Mike to meet us here soon!"

"Great!" Beverley pipes up, looking over her stickers, ribbons, and lights. They decided to skip the balloons. No one is quite ready to relive all of that. 

None the less, it looked truly festive down in the hangout. Stunning even, with the bright colors, expert decor and Bill's pretty cursive writing over the large 'HAPPY BIRTHDAY MIKE' banner. 

Everything else was pretty much the same. The dirty carpet, the bean bag chair, the two hammocks. One obviously more superior then the other, but it wasn't a contest. 

But it felt perfect. 

Ben set down the cake onto the fold out table in the middle of the club house, 17 candles scattered about the top. Next to it, Bill, Stan and Ben's gifts sit on the table. Eddie remembered to set his down as well, Beverly following his lead and doing the same. 

Each gift varied in sizes, some wrapped in actual wrapping paper, some in just plastic bags, some wrapped in paper bags, and all in between. But they all knew it was the thought that counted. 

The door to the clubhouse flung open, the dimming daylight pouring in and illuminating Richie’s silhouette. 

Everyone seemed to jump at it, thinking it was Mike who popped open the door. A sigh of relief fell over everyone as Richie scurried down the ladder. 

"You're late." Stan says unamused.

"Sorry ol' chap" Richie grumbles in a British accent, walking over to slap the back of Stan's back. 

Richie for some god damn reason decided to wear a obnoxiously bright yellow Hawaiian shirt with sharks printed all over. It's was hideous, and pissing Eddie off that somehow Richie looked good in it. 

Don’t focus on that. 

Why are you focusing on that? 

Everyone is able to find spots to hide, by the time Mike finally shows up. 

“Surprise.!!” The losers yelled, jumping out to find a wide tooth grin splayed over Mikes lips. 

“I knew it!” He laughed, but it was kind and genuine, happiness oozing off him like always. 

“You did??” Beverly whined, speed walking over to Mike to hug him, obviously not too upset by it. 

“Yeah” Mike began, wiping the dirt on his hands from the ladder, onto his pants. “figured it was going to be a party. It is my birthday after all, and everyone wanted to meet up with me. It wasn't that hard to figure out.” 

Bill and Ben seemed a little bummed out by this, prompting Mike to quickly add, “Either way i am still so thankful. Thank you guys. This is the sweetest thing. Makes growing up easier when I have all of you.” 

A rush of admiration falls over Eddie. He was always so taken aback by how effortlessly sweet Mike always was. 

Quickly they all swish together, Mike being the middle man in a large Loser group hug. 

Now it was time for the fun part. 

“Presents!!” Mike yelled out, clapping happily as he was set down on the beanbag, as everyone lines up with their gifts. 

Ben got him some of their favorite history books, since both of them shared a interest in history, a few of them brand new, and some of them old, with damage and ware to them, but Mike seemed more interested in the old ones. Mike gave Ben a tight hug, promising him they could read them together after school. 

Richie made Mike a mixtape, he always does for every single loser every year on their birthdays. They know how much work he puts into them, and that he doesn't really have that much money to be able to buy anything anyway. But Mike swoons over it, reading through the songs, “oh I LOVE careless whisper.” Richie grins, nodding his head thoughtfully. “I know Mikey.” 

Needless to say, Richie was crushed so hard by his hug he turned into jelly and slumped onto the floor. 

Bev customized a thrift store jacket with patches she put on herself. Some of farm animals, and planets from space. Some landmarks like France and Italy because both Bev and Mike talked about visiting those places one day. This time it was Beverley crushing Mike with a hug, until he had to whimper out, “uncle. UNCLE!”

Bill drew beautiful art pieces for Mike, him as different superhero’s, and action stars. Boba Fett, Batman, Indiana Jones. “Oh Bill I cant wait to hang these on my wall! You are so talented JEEZ.” Bill blushes, a smile spreading over his lips. Mike was the only person Bill would take a complement from. 

Stan made a photo collage, some photos being of all the losers together, some of just Mike with each individual loser. Mike teared up looking at it, picking Stan up and literally SWINGING him around. Eddie waited for Stanley to say something sassy, or complain. But he didn’t, of course he didn’t. Mike could get away with anything. Stan just smiled fondly at him, and Mike just grinned back. 

Great. Eddie’s gift was last. No pressure. 

He sucked in a breathe, knowing Mike would never be upset at Eddie if he disliked the gift.

It was a wooden harmonica. 

No one else understood why Eddie saved up money to buy that specific instrument. It was expensive; with bronze like metal around the trim and mouthpiece. 

But Eddie knew Mike at least understood, because the moment his eyes landed on it, his face lit up.

Eddie and Mike shared all their classes together, which meant they had a lot of one on one time, to get to know each other better. "I like jazz music, the type that plays to the soul.” Mike said one day, after everyone had finished their work early, and the class sat around with nothing much to do. “It reminds me of my grandma, and the way she would rock in her chair and play the blue's on her harmonica, it made me feel like I was a part of something." 

Eddie stared at him. “I don’t really know what that feels like.” 

“Really? You don’t have something that makes you think of a family member you love? Something that makes you feel fuzzy and reminds you of them?” Mike rests his chin on his hand, idly clicking his pen. 

“Maybe. Maybe running.” Eddie says, quiet. Mike doesn’t press further, he knows when and when not to ask. 

“Well. The sound of the harmonica reminds me of my grandma, and Mom. Grandma would play, while ma would sing. Always blues songs, and I would sit on the side of the porch, watching them. I was young. Pretty young. I wish I could remember it better. I never got a chance to experience it again.” Mikes words faded out sadly, like he was remembering his last interaction with his mom, and dad most likely. 

The fire. No one ever brought it up, but they knew Mike losing not one but two parents, took a toll on him. Not to mention how traumatic of a way to lose a loved one. Sometimes during sleep overs he would have nightmares, and all anyone could do was comfort him. 

Eddie decided to change it to a better mood. 

“What did it look like. The harmonica?” 

Mike rests the instrument in his hand, examining the pristine carving of it, and the detailing along the metal. 

He brought it up to his mouth, playing a cord, and it came out crisp. 

Then he fell silent for a moment. Everyone in the group sits waiting for his reaction, waiting for him to hug Eddie or say thank you. 

But then—

“Oh my god. Mike I’m so sorry—“ 

Eddie panics, watching Mike begin to cry, small tears rolling down his cheeks. Eddie thinks he’s done something wrong until he notices the large smile on his face. 

“You remembered.” Mike whispers, “I only ever told you that story. And. Wow. You really remembered. It looks exactly like hers.” He chokes out a laugh, standing up and wiping his tears onto his sleeve. “Thank you Eddie. This. Jeez, this means the world to me.”

Eddie’s heart skips a beat, seeing the pure happiness in Mikes features filled him with so much joy and pride. 

Mike hugs him so tight Eddie has to second guess about pulling out his inhaler. 

After being squished into a million pieces, and having Mike declare Eddie as, “the man!” 

Everyone settles down, moving on to cut the cake and hand out pieces. 

Eddie sits at the back of the room, observing his friends. 

Some dust falls down from the lining of the roof, the wood creaking a little. 

It happened often. 

And he freaks out a lot less about it every time. but every once in a while he can’t help but worry. Worry about anything, and everything. Even during the best moments in his life, right now he should be happy, and living in the moment, but instead he is plagued with thoughts of germs and sicknesses and dying. He can’t help but curse his mother in his head, he is this way because of her. He can’t even enjoy the things that make him happy in life without the anxiety making a surprise visit. 

And what about that thought he had about Richie earlier that day? Oh no, now it’s replying over and over in his head. Bright yellow shirt with sharks. Bright yellow shirt with sharks. Bright yellow shirt with sharks. 

What if he does like Richie? What does that mean about him? Everyone accepts Richie for liking guys. But would they react the same about Eddie, after he had TOOK back what he had said. Saying he was confused. Would they think he was just seeking attention if he came out a second time? 

“Woah. Eddie are you okay?” Ben asks gently, causing the rest of the group to turn their heads to him. That definitely didn’t help. 

He didn’t even notice he was hyperventilating until Richie mentioned it, eyes worried as he hurried over to Eddie’s side. “Hey you’re breathing hard are you okay?” 

“Way to repeat what I just said asshole” Ben grumbled, causing Richie to roll his eyes. “Sorry Haystack.” 

“I can handle it.” Stan says, calm and collected, moving to place and sturdy hand on Eddie’s shoulder. 

“What? No I can do it.” Richie insists but Stan just gives him a look, the type of look that says, ‘no offense but the majority of the time you make Eddie’s panic attacks worse with your hyper personality.’ 

Which. Fair enough. 

Richie gets the message, and hesitantly, moves away, allowing Stan to take charge. “How about we go out for some air real quick huh?” Stan asks, reaching down to intertwine his fingers with his, his thumb rubbing over the back of Eddie’s hand. 

Eddie nods his head, following Stan out the club house, only letting go of his hand to get up the ladder. “We’ll be back soon!” Stan announces, giving a reassuring thumbs up to the group before closing the door.

It’s slightly cold outside, as Stan guides him through the forest. 

They sit outside for a moment, on a stump amongst the trees, the sunset painting the sky in a claiming and stunning pink and orange. 

“Oh look! A mockingjay.” Stan says, pointing up at one of the trees, a bird fluttering by. Eddie watches the birds, listening to Stan list off different facts about each bird that flew over their heads. 

“And over there is a Red herring, and that right there is a brown headed cowbird, not to be mistaken by a house finch.” 

Eddie slowly focuses on steady breaths, allowing Stan to lull him with his calming presence. 

“Crows can mimic speech. They are honestly my favorite bird as of right now. They are so smart, and way bigger then you think.” 

“Aren’t they like bad luck or something?” Eddie finally manages to speak, feeling the panic fall away, now that he can properly breath. 

“What?” Stan seems genuinely offended, “of course not. Don’t listen to superstition. They are just misunderstood, and judge for nonsense. But deep down they are the best of us all.” 

Eddie looks over at Stan, expecting him to be looking up at the treetops, but instead he is peering Eddie, his gaze soft and endearing. 

“You know, you don’t have to worry about what we will think of you right? We love you no matter what.” Stan says, gentle yet knowing. 

“What—“ 

“I know, you like Richie back Eddie.” Stan says upfront, resting a hand on Eddie’s shoulder. “I know you aren’t actually straight like you told everyone.” 

Eddie feels like he might explode. 

“Hey. Don’t worry.” Stan hurries out, knowing that look on Eddie’s face too well. “I’m not going to tell anyone. I promise.” Stan coo’s, making Eddie relax a bit. 

“Do you think anyone else knows?” He whispers after a moment, knowing there was no point in lying to Stan. 

“No, I’m pretty sure they are all oblivious. I mean none of them were able to figure out Richie was gay, and, have you met him?” 

Eddie laughs, moving to rest his head on Stan’s shoulder. “Yeah I guess you’re right.” 

“Of course I am. I’m always right.” 

Then there is a pause. 

“Is it bad?” Eddie says, low and unsure. 

“Is what bad?” 

“That it kinda makes me happy that Richie can’t be with anyone. Because no girl will date him, and obviously boys aren’t a option in Darry.” Eddie begins, sounding small, and ashamed. 

“I don’t know why. I shouldn’t take pleasure in knowing my friend can’t find someone else, when I was the one to turned him down in the first place. It makes me feel kinda mean.” 

“Yeah that is kinda mean.” Stan deadpans, causing Eddie to flinch a little. 

“But it’s also natural. You like him, but you’re not ready for that yet. And you feel bad for rejecting him for so long. But you also don’t want to see him with someone else.” 

Eddie nods his head, but Stan just keeps going. “Or maybe you are holding back, because you think Richie deserves better then someone who is ashamed to be gay.” 

Ouch. 

Why must Stan always be right.

They fall silent for a moment, going back to watching the birds. 

“You know” Stan mumbles, “when I was a kid, my mom had a Blue Jay that she kept in a golden cage.” 

“I would watch how it would fly around and hit the sides of the cage. It would just keep going until it hurt itself.” Stan finally turns to look at Eddie. “I would sit with her, sing to her, draw portraits of her, But no matter how kind I was to her, she was trapped, and the longer she was stuck in there, the more damaged her wings would become.” 

Eddie watches as the Stans brows knit together, “So one day when my mom wasn't home. I set her free.” His gaze moved to the sky, like if he tried hard enough he could see her flying around. 

“Her wings were wonky and she flew weird, but she was happy to finally be free, and she came back every once in a while, to greet me. Like she was saying thank you.” 

Eddie sucks in a breath, feeling the weight of Stanley’s next words. 

“If someone makes you feel free, don't be ashamed, go towards it, open that cage, and fly.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The abuse Eddie goes through, throughout this work, is a lot of the abuse I had to live through, through my childhood. A lot of the specific incidents are things I dealt with myself, and it was nice to finally talk about it.


	2. Take a Chance

"The Dark Ages:" Stan starts, voice peppered with whimsy, as if he was trying to make what he was saying actually interesting. "1100 BCE - 800 BCE, the historical period referring to a period of time, supposed cultural and economic deterioration, and scarcity of written record—" 

"This is b-boring." Bill whines, flopping his tall clumsy body down on top of Eddie, throughly squishing him into paste, the history book in his hand falling onto the floor next to the bed. 

Stan sighs for the tenth time that day, pinching the bridge of his nose, "we have only been at this for 5 minutes Bill." He gestures to the homework assignments skewed around them, untouched and definitely not finished. 

"Yeah, and w-w-we should take a b-break." He drapes a long arm over his eyes, dramatically going limp like it was going to kill him if he had to study any longer. 

"Bill." Eddie groans, trying to push Bill off him but failing because of the deadweight of Bill's slack body. "Seriously, I need to study, my grades aren't going to get better by themselves." Eddie wiggled for effect, but only causes Bill to laugh.

"Not all of us are as g-gi-gifted as R-Richie I guess." Bill mumbled, finally rolling off Eddie to grab his textbook off the ground.

"Ugh, don't even mention that name while I'm struggling with this damn project." Stan complains, leaning back in Eddie's desk chair, shoulders going slack.

"Awe common, don't be so pissy about it Stan." Eddie teases, getting up to poke the side of his head, "mad cause you can't pass the classes with flying colors?" Eddie stumbled around, grabbing the closes thing to his right, (his pillow) and using it to smack Stan along the side of his head. "Oh no! The evil pillow monster strikes again!! Defend yourself Stanley, or ye shall surely parish." 

"Oh one of us will parish and it isn't going to be me." Stan threatens, moving to expertly tackle Eddie down, as Bill grabs his note books off the bed just in time to move out the way. 

"Oh are w-w-we wrestling now?" Bill laughs, jumping into the pile, putting Eddie in a headlock, while shoving Stan's face into the sheets. 

"That's unfair! You are like a fucking giraffe!" Eddie struggles out, as Stan's knee presses into his cheek, fall backwards when Bill changes positions, and puts Stan in a headlock, using his foot to press Eddie down. 

"Get your feet off my chest." Eddie demands almost breathless from the pressure. 

"H-h-how about... no?" Bill grins deviously, being caught off guard by Stan flipping them over, finally getting the high ground. He sits on top of Eddie, using the upper half of his body to pin Bill down. 

"Get your ass off me!" Eddie shrieks, laughing as he slaps the back of Stan's legs. 

"Well which is it? Get feet off you, or our asses?" Stan says dryly, a cheeky grin over his face. 

Eddie laughs hard, pushing Stan off him, and hooking his legs around his torso, using his arms to hold Bills arms behind his back and give him a noogy. 

"Both!" 

Bill and Stan laugh, as Eddie struggles to keep them both subdued. 

"Eddiebear! What are you boys doing up there?" Suddenly they all three stop, still like statues. 

"Errr.. Nothing mommy! Just studying, I dropped my book thats all!" Eddie stumbles out, lying through his teeth with ease. He's far too used to it, it's like second nature at this point.

"Well be carful! You could break a bone if you drop that heavy book on your foot!" She cries out, voice echoing through the walls. 

"Okay! I will." Eddie lies again.

Stan and Bill snicker, trying to hold in their laughs, both receiving a death glare. 

"Well. If you two are struggling with studying so much, why don't we just invite Richie over?" Eddie finally suggested, settling back into his spot on the bed. 

"What did I just say about mentioning him!" Stan argues, stubbornness grounded in his bones. 

"What's g-g-got you so u-upset about Rich? W-w-what did he d-do this time?" Bill prods, laying his head on Eddie's shoulder. 

"Nothing, he didn't do anything. And that's the POINT." Stan rubs a hand over his face, sighing into his hand defeatedly. "It is just so so annoying that Richie passes all his classes with basically perfect grades yet all he does is goof off and never study. And here we are, suffering while Mr. A plus is probably at the arcade. Or. You know, jerking off." 

Eddie choked slightly at the prospect of, well. That. Sure Richie made those jokes all the time, but did he...? He must, he is 16 going on 17 after all. Any normal growing boy would. Accept Eddie of course, he's too afraid to, too ashamed. It's dirty, it's bad. He might grow hair on his palms.

Well he knew that wasn't true, but the fear was still there. And most of all, the fear of what, or even worse, who, Eddie would think about while doing such a thing. 

"Earth to Edward helloooo??" Stan waves his hand in front of Eddie's face, trying to get his attention. "You in Neverland or something?" 

"Wo-wo-would Eddie b-be Peter Pan, or a l-l-l-lost boy?" 

"He would be Wendy." Stan snickered, receiving a punch in the arm from Eddie. 

"Sorry I was just thinking." 

"About?" Bill questions, finally moving away, so he can look at Eddie. 

"Uhh.." he pauses for a moment, mind running miles, "I need a tutor cause. I was thinking about how I might need a tutor. Because. I need a tutor." Wow, you sound really smart Ed's. "I'm failing a class, but I don't want to let mom know." 

Great fucking save. 

And a part of him wasn't lying either, he had thought about it before, just never voiced it. 

"Oh! W-w-well there is a program, a-and Audra Phillips is a AP s-st-st-sss-student, she needs extra c-credit cause she missed a few days of school." Bill coughs, clearing his throat a little, "and there are a few o-other s-s-st-students who are tutoring." 

"Ooooo, Bill has a crush?" Stan teases, but when Bill actually blushes in response, Eddie is surprised. 

It was old news, that Bill and Beverley never actually ended up dating each other, sure they would kiss and hold hands, but as time went by, they just drifted. But not the same way they did after first kissing during the third grade play, giggling and smiling. No they didn't drift apart, on the contrary, they drifted head first into becoming best-friends, that it came to a point that they treasured their platonic relationship more then their romantic so much, they declared their undying friend boners for each other at the same time. Richie's words not Eddie's. 

Besides Richie, Bill was Beverley's closes friend in the group now. 

It's just that... thinking about them actually moving on. And dating other people was still a foreign concept for Eddie, even if it had been years since they made their Bff announcement to the group. He didn't think it would happen anytime soon. 

"Well." Eddie mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck, "I guess I'll consider that then. Though I promise I won't try and be tutored by her Bill, for your sake of course." Eddie grinned wickedly, as Bill buried his face deeper into Stan's back. 

"You two s-s-sh-shut up." 

They didn't of course.   
___________________________

Eddie looks over himself one last time, he specifically decided to wear his red shorts, because he remembered Beverley making a comment about how Richie liked them one time. Pathetic to remember a small detail like that, but any detail about Richie, Eddie organized, folded up, and put into the closet in his brain. One he frequently visited, or just hid in. 

Hand sanitizer, alcohol wipes, disinfectant, bandages, gay thoughts. 

Check. 

They were all here, in Eddie's pockets rather then a fannypack. He made a conscious effort to not wear one anymore, going back to the Neibolt house after defeating pennywise just to retrieve his fake medication was a point of weakness. He had to try better.

Taking in a deep relaxing breath he grounded himself in reality.

Finally, he knocked on the door, being greeted by Bill, a red solo cup in his hand, and a smile that could blind the sun, shining on his face. 

"Hey Eddie. Come I-I-inside." 

It was another slumber party, since it was Saturday night, they got to spend most of the weekend all together, just the losers. 

This time, it was Richie who was hosting, and as Eddie walked down the hall to spot the neglected oven, finally being used after years of rusting away, for something (boxed pizza) it was refreshing to see Richie take charge for once. 

"His parents are off doing whatever drunk people do." Beverley side comments when Eddie settles down next to her on the floor, the TV playing 'Nightmare on Elm Street'.

Which, makes sense, Richies parents weren't always home. 

Often enough that many of the Loser haven't even so much as met them. Eddie was fortunate enough, if you can call it that, to have met Richie's father on multiple occasions when his mother would drag him to the dentist to get a check up. 

"Sooo.. what are you drinking there Bill?" Mike prods, moving to sit down next to Eddie, slinging a strong arm around his shoulder. Eddie pushes into it, Mike was always such a beacon of warmth, and deserves so much more recognition for it. Just a walking talking heating unit.

"Richie's parents have alcohol all around t-t-the house, Richie said we c-could have some, because they won't notice if some go-g-goes missing." 

"Wow, does getting shit faced make you stutter less?" Beverley teases, leaning to lay her body over Bills lap, her head ending up resting in Stan's lap. 

"Seem like it." Stan snickers, receiving a playful shove from Bill. 

"Isn't... that's illegal. You know. Drinking? We are 16, well besides from Mikey." Eddie deadpans, patting Mike's back at the last part. 

Beverley rolls her eyes, stare heavy with amusement as she looks towards Eddie, "live a little Ed! Isn't it a little illegal to kill a evil clown?" 

"Well technically there are no laws for the specific sanction of scenario, because I don't think anyone really thought about something like that needing to be taken into consideration." Eddie receives a hard laugh from Beverley, as she slaps a hand on his knee. 

"Stan, you have to be with me on this one right?" Eddie looks to Stan, eyes pleading for some voice of reason and responsibility. But Stan just shrugs. Traitor. 

But— well. If Stan of all people is going to be okay with it, so will Eddie. The last thing he wanted, was to be a mom. Eddie could be fun, of course alcohol consumption under the legal age came with little to no health benefits, and if anything it would be putting his friends at risk of losing brain cells or stunting their growth. 

But he can't get Beverley's voice out of his head, 'live a little' 

If Eddie could defeat pennywise, then he could let his friends drink some alcohol at a slumber party. 

His agreement to it doesn't go over looked, soon everyone had some type of alcoholic beverage in their hand, apart from Eddie, and Mike, saying he needed to be in top shape to work on the farm tomorrow. It made Eddie sad, thinking Mike couldn't just be a teenager sometimes, too busy working, doing adult things before anyone else had to. 

Even Stan, surprisingly decided to drink, Richie offered him some of his moms wine she never touched, and that peaked his interest.

Finally joining everyone in the living room, Eddie couldn't help but stare at Richie's arms, they were long, and looked like they would be cozy to snuggle up into. 

He twisted open the wine cork on the bottle with a loud 'pop'. Causing everyone to jump a little, before defusing into laughter. 

"It's basically the putrid blood of old dying grapes, that were crushed to death by some snooty fruity people's feet. Sounds appetizing right?" Richie teases, pouring some, honestly very expressive wine, into a crappy plastic cup. 

"Swirl it around and shit, and then sniff it, I see people do that on TV." Richie offers, and even with how stupid that sounds, Stan actually listens and does just that. 

Nether of them know if it really did anything, or if it was some bullshit fancy rich people did.

Either way they found it funny. 

"Well it's delightful kind sir." Stan begins, grinning when Richie bows playfully, "Well of course Monsieur~." He used his French accent, that he was getting surprisingly good at, "anything for you, vous biner le beurre d'arachide!" 

Stan rolls his eyes, taking a sip and cringing slightly at the taste of the wine, "Looks like someone has been paying attention in French class." 

Richie laughed, pushing the cork back onto the wine bottle, "Only enough to get the basics, and to learn all the curse words of course." 

"Oh! Teach me how to say fuck in French my dear Richie, teach me the language of romance." Beverley coo'd from beside Stan, body swaying as she threw a arm over her face dramatically. 

"Of course Mademoiselle." Richie clears his throat, waiting for the entire group to look towards him, and give him their undivided attention. Of course, he always had Eddie's.

"Repeat after me everyone—Baise, BAISEE."

"BAISE!" Everyone repeated, delighted in their extended vocabulary in derogatory terms. 

"Good!" Richie grins, as everyone repeats the word over and over, trying to get their accent correct.

'Ding!'

"Oh! Fuckle duckle, the pizza is done." Richie quickly hurries to the kitchen. 

Eddie's cheeks feel like they are going to pull some type of muscle from all the smiling he is doing. It's been happening more and more often when he's around Richie, he can't help but feel bubbly and warm. It's scary how comforting Richie is. With Mike, or Ben, or Bill, or Stan or even Bev. They bring a comfort to Eddie, that makes him happy, and excited, and relaxed. But with Richie, it consumes Eddie's body full force, and swallows him whole, until he is left a drift in a sea of Richie.

"Do you guys want to watch another horror movie?" Ben asks, looking through the small collection of movies the Toizer's owns, all, are just horror movies because that's the only type of film Richie enjoys watching. 

"Oh this one has a werewolf in it." Beverley says, looking at the catalog with Ben. 

"Oh no, no werewolves." Eddie says quiet so Richie can't hear them from the kitchen, "Richie won't say it, but they give him nightmares. Try anything that involves zombies, he likes those." 

Beverley gives Eddie a look he doesn't quite understand, but smiles and nods, "on it. No werewolves." 

"Don't you hate zombies Eddie? Their like gross and sickly and like everything you hate?" Stan questions, a small almost knowing smirk adorning his lips. Eddie can feel himself flush to a cherry red. 

"Yeah but Richie likes them." 

"Richie likes what now?" Richie speaks up from behind them, pizza in his hands as he sets it down on the coffee table. 

"Zombies." Stan says saving Eddie from embarrassment, eyes trailing over to the taller boy. 

"Oh yeah I do." Richie grins, moving to sit next to Eddie, pushing into his personal space and wrapping his lanky arms around his waist. Eddie desperately tries to contain the bubbles, even as each pops, and bursts into a million more tiny bubbles, fluttering around and tickling his insides. 

"Another scary movie really?" Mike pouts, moving to rest his chin on Beverley's shoulder. 

Bill shoves himself on top of Ben, making the boy under him laugh, "oof, im being cruuushheddd." Ben teased, just encouraging Bill to put more weight on him. 

"Awe Mikey, I'm sure a ol' horror isn't going to ruin the night for ya is it?" Richie asks, giving Mike the best puppy eyes he can muster. 

"No of course not." Mike insists, shifting to hide his face in Beverley's back, she laughs at the action. "I'm not scared or anything." He mumbles. 

Richie grins, tightening his grip around Eddie, making his blush even more prevalent. He was sure though, that no one would notice, except Stan of course. "good. I knew none of us were scaredy-cats. I mean, are we men or are we mice!?" Richie howls. 

"We're MICE!" The rest of the losers answer back in unison.   
________________________

"The boy-scouts? Why?" Richie teased, giving Stan a noogy. Stan shoves Richie's arms away, sighing. "Because! There is a Bird Study Merit Badge and you can get multiple ranks in that interest."

"Isn't the Boy Scouts meant for like 4 year olds? What are you going to do sell cookies?Huh Stan-the-Man? I didn't know they let high-schoolers in." Richie rose a eyebrow, question actually genuine despite the teasing tone. 

"It's for anyone under the age of 18." Stan says flatly, finally able to fix his hair after Richie's tireless assault. 

"Well looks like I'll only be a boy scout for a year then." Mike announces, causing everyone to turn their attention to him. 

"You're joining too?" Stan questions, and Mike just smiles. "Well, yeah, I like camping, and animals. But also I can't let you have all the fun by yourself." 

Stan grins, with Beverley gleefully clapping next to him. 

"Oh! Ive been thinking about joining the art-design club at school." She grabs her notebook from her bag, flipping through the pages, scribbled with small sketches she's made over time. "I want to get into fashion." 

"A drawing club huh? C-c-count me in then." Bill leans over Beverley, looking at the different outfits mapped out on the paper, giving her a thumbs up of approval.

"Woah, woah, woah. Who said ANY of you could hang out with other people BESIDES me huh?" Richie complains, draping himself over Mike and Stan, crushing them with his weight.

They all start giving Richie club suggestions, theatre, drama, maybe he could pick up a instrument. 

But in their own little bubble on the other side of the living room, sat Ben and Eddie. Whispering amongst themselves. 

Ben leans against Eddie, head lopping to the side with a frustrated sigh admitting from deep in his chest. 

"I wrote another poem for her." He says, soft, almost so quiet Eddie barely catches it, like he is ashamed. 

"That's good, it's a way of letting your emotions out." Eddie tries his best to be supportive, being just as inexperienced in the romance department as Ben.

"I know, it's just." Ben hesitates for a moment, lowering his voice, "It's been years since her and Bill broke up. Is it okay to make a move? Would it be against the bro code to do that to Bill?" He presses his fingers into his temples. "And more importantly, would Beverley even be interested. Would she even like me?" Ben's eyes shifted to the floor, like he couldn't bare to look at her. Unbeknownst to Eddie though, Ben is having a slight déjà vu from this conversation, gaze moving from the ground, to Richie laughing across the room. "I don't want to ruin our friendship, I like her as a person so much, imagining not having her in my life at all. It's scary. I just don't want to ruin anything." 

'I know what you mean' Eddie thinks to himself, resting a reassuring hand on Ben's shoulder. "I get it. It's complicated. But just tell her how you feel."

"You say that like it's easy." Ben grumbles, resting his face in the cradle of his palms. "I feel like I don't even deserve her." 

Eddie hissed at that, instinctively hugging his friend, and patting his back. "Don't say that. Both of you are wonderful amazing people." 

When Ben stays silent, Eddie tries another approach. "Tell me the poem." 

Ben looks up from his hands, and reaches into his pocket, pulling out a folded piece of notebook paper. It has scribbles all over it, the paper worn from use.

Eddie unfolds it delicately, as if it was Ben's emotions were laying in his hands. 

-Your heart is as warm as the Summer heat, your smile radiates a familiarity for only those who've known the tenderness of sorrow. And you mend their broken bones with magnificent devotion. For you are my benevolent lullaby.-

Honestly, Eddie doesn't know much about poetry, but if he received something like this he is pretty positive he would swoon.

"This is so pretty." Eddie encourages, handing the paper back to Ben, petting his head softly. 

"You think I should do it?" He whispered, and Eddie nodded his head, "yeah. You should." And slowly, Eddie watched Ben get up, and slip the poem into Beverley's sketch book. 

Love made people brave.

Eddie wondered, what it would be like, to be with someone you love. What it was like to feel that type of love in the first place. What it was like to be loved. 

To be loved. 

Eddie couldn't help but let his eyes flicker to Richie. Richie was in love with Eddie. Or at-least he said he was when they were 13. 

Did he still love him? Did the years change his mind? Was Eddie even worthy of it?

Almost as if Richie could read his thoughts, he turned to meet Eddie's eyes from across the room, smiling when he notice eddie was already looking at him. He blew him a kiss, teasing him as always. Eddie just flipped him off, turning his face away to hide his blush.

If Ben could be brave. So could Eddie.   
_____________________

"I'll see you guys tomorrow." Beverley hugs the group, getting onto her bike and petaling off, leaving just the scent of her perfume. It's comforting. Bill is the last to leave, hugging Eddie and Richie before following Beverley's lead. 

"Remember to b-be-bring the notes for Mr.Roberts class t-t-tomorrow, I forgot mine in my locker." Bill reminds Richie, earning him a eye roll. "It's not my fault you forgot to be a good student BI-BI-BI-BILL." Bill flips the bird at him, making Richie laugh harder, leaving Eddie and Richie alone once again.

Eddie watched Bill's hair flutter on the wind as he rides off in the distance. He can't seem to figure out what he wants to say. 

"You going to be getting home to your mommy now spaghetti?" Richie asks before he can get any words out, slinging a arm over Eddie's shoulder. 

"Well... I was." Be brave. "Uh. Actually thinking about spending the day with you?" Eddie began, feeling his hands tremble a little bit. He didn't understand why he was nervous, there was no need for it, he had spent plenty of days alone with Richie before. This shouldn't be different. 

Accept it was. Eddie had new intentions. 

Richie's brows perk up, looking hopeful as he pulled Eddie into the house. "Really? Wouldn't your ma be upset I'm keeping you all to myself Eds? I wouldn't want to ruin my relationship with her and all." He grins mischievously.

"Shut up Rich, or I'll change my mind." Eddie warned, but they both knew there was no heat behind it. 

As they went up the stairs to Richie's room, Eddie couldn't help but worry that he was intruding, all the other loser's left because they knew Richie's parents didn't like it when he had people over. 

Of course, before everyone dispersed they worked together to clean the place up, to make it even CLEANER then what it had been before. The previously rusted oven, was scrubbed down by Stan and Bev. Dishes cleaned and dried then put away by Ben. Eddie even did everyone's laundry, while Bill picked up all the ash trays and beer bottles scattered about. Mike tidied up the living room and organized the fridge, with Richie. So his parents would have no reason to complain. Eddie still couldn't help but feel anxious.

So he brushed that off from his mind, and focuses on being brave. 

"Do you want to read some comics?" He begins, it's a normal request, that didn't even make Richie question it, "sure—"

"And hold hands." Eddie hurries out at the end. And that made Richie react. His eyes shooting open, only for a moment before he collects his cool again. 

"Uh. Yeah totally." Richie quickly agrees, stumbling into bed and holding his hand out for Eddie. 

Ever so slowly, Eddie settles himself between Richie's legs, chest to back, hand intertwined with his. Eddie holds the comic with the other hand in his lap, with Richie flips the pages for them. 

Its quiet, besides the soft mumbling that slips from Richie's lips as he reads over the thought bubbles of Wolverine. Eddie doesn't pay much attention to the comic, instead enraptured by the soft press of Richie's chest, warm and firm against his back. 

Richie rests his chin on his Eddie's shoulder, and Eddie has to remind himself how to breath. In. Out. In. Out. 

Trying to distract himself, he looks around Richie's room, covered in posters, from Queen to David Bowie. Janis Joplin, Elton John, Wham! Popular artist who were either publicly bisexual or gay. Eddie only knows that because Richie would point it out to Beverley or Bill every time he's put a new one up on his wall.

Besides the posters, he had records all over the room, music from the 50's all the way to modern 80's albums. He had a old dusty record player his mom gave him when he was 11. And a guitar he had no idea how to play laid next to it, like decoration. 

Of course there were also clothes all over the floor, and none of them were even dirty, they were clean clothes Richie didn't even want to bother with folding, let alone hang up. "Too much work, just to throw that bitch on my sweaty ass body later." He would say when Eddie or Stan would scold him. 

He had a skateboard on top of his desk, the one he would ride just to make Eddie have a aneurysm about how if he wasn't carful he would get a concussion. It was now covered from top to bottom with stickers, either cool designs from shops he actually had to buy or random labels Richie would rip off of fruit and grocery items. Luckily Richie knew how to ride it way better now. Eddie didn't have to worry about protecting him.

Eddie turns his head back to the comic, seeing Richie had already finished 4 pages without him. 

What should he say? What does he even want to say? What does he feel for Richie. It's a loaded question. Because while he didn't know, a part of him deep down did.

He tightens his grip on Richie's hand, feeling the relax in his grip. And as if almost instinctively, Richie squeezes back, using his pointer finger to play with the back of Eddie's knuckles. It's a wordless conversation, banking on the hope that the other will understand how much they care. 

Eddie is about to voice his thoughts when he hears the front door slam shut. Hard. From downstairs. 

Richie's body tenses up, Eddie can feel his diaphragm stop moving. He's holding his breath. A ping of worry fills Eddie's stomach. 

Is this how Richie always reacted when his parents got home? Afraid, and waiting, wondering if something might happen. 

There is shuffling coming from downstairs, but no one has said anything, maybe a minute passes and Richie finally eases up a little, sucking in a big breath. 

"Don't go down there okay?" Richie whispers against the shell of Eddie's ear. He shivers, Richie sounds so worried. Eddie simply nods, and feels the weight of the bed shift as Richie gets up and out of it. 

He puts his finger over his lips, signaling Eddie to stay quiet, and all Eddie can do is nod again. 

He stays put in Richies bed, suddenly feeling small amongst the blankets. Richie shuts his bedroom door, but the walls are thin, and Eddie can hear him walk down the stairs. 

At first, there is just a casual murmur, like he was talking to his mother. But Eddie flinches when he hears Mr. Tozier yell. His voice is loud and demanding. It was nothing like Eddie's father. 

Eddie almost on impulse starts to get up but remembers what Richie told him, and hesitantly settles back down in his bed. 

Moving at all must have been a mistake, because the bed creaks. He never noticed it before, but when you are trying to be quiet. Everything sounds as loud as a stampede. 

The yelling goes quiet, and Eddie can make out just a few words Richie's father says. "Someone?" And "here?" 

Then it's quiet again, and Eddie feels guilt and fear boil up inside his stomach. This time the silence wasn't comforting; it was like heat, rolling up, burning, becoming hotter. Until—

'Smack' 

A roaring fire exploded. 

It rings in Eddie's ears. He softly touches his own cheek, like he can feel the fantom hand of his mother striking him. But it's more then just a smack. 

"Fuck! Get off!" Richie yells, and Eddie feel paralyzed, eyes wide. Richie could be getting beaten by his dad downstairs. And Eddie, is too fucking scared to do something. 

Do something. 

Do something, don't just leave him there. 

Fucking do something. 

Don't be a coward help him. Do something. Help him. Help him. Help Richie. 

Be brave. 

"I can't." Eddie whispers to himself, curling up into a ball, and crying into his knees. He can hear thuds, and Richie's mother yell out a harsh "STOP." 

He was a coward. He could have done something. He could have. 

Five minutes pass, and nothing seems to happen. Time stands still as Eddie's eyes glue to the door, waiting for the knob to turn. Hoping for Richie, fearing it might be his father.

Maybe five more minutes pass when the door does finally open. It's Richie's mom, escorting Richie into the room. She doesn't even glance at Eddie when she closes the door behind Richie once he is inside. 

Eddie has never felt more anger in his life when he sees the blood from Richie's lip. He doesn't even notice the black eye starting the form until a little later. 

"Oh my god Rich. I- oh god I'm so sorry." Eddie hurries out, but can't continue babbling because Richie quickly scoops him into a hug, burying his face into Eddie's chest. He doesn't protest even though he knows he is going to get blood on his shirt. 

For a year Eddie has been silently complaining about how annoyingly (hot) it is that Richie had gotten so big, and tall and lanky. But right now he seemed so tiny. Like if Eddie wasn't carful he might break. 

Eddie realizes in that moment, that he might have some feelings for Richie. And that he was angry at his father, wanted to kill him even, he voices his emotions the best he can.

"I swear, Richie if I had known. I would have, I would have done something. I'm so sorry, I'm so angry with myself for not interfering." 

"No. No Eds." Richie's voice is surprisingly calm, "I'm glad you didn't. It would have just been worse, trust me. I'm glad you listened." 

Eddie still couldn't stand it, no matter what Richie said, "I swear, I'm going to fight him—" 

Richie chuckles, "no offense Eddie but my old man could take you in a fight." Eddie groans, "shut up, I mean it." 

There's a pause, as Richie slowly pulls his head away from Eddie's chest, meeting his gaze. "I know you do." He whispers, touching the side of Eddie's face, so gently he swears it's like a ghost. 

He doesn't know, if it's the look in Richie's eyes, or the way his heart aches, that makes him do it. But it doesn't changes that it happened. 

Eddie leans forward, pressing his lips firm against Richie's. 

It's slow at first, like they are both shocked, and then fast, like they are overcome with emotion. Richie surges forward, like he had been waiting for this for so long. Eddie can taste a slight Metallicy flavor from the blood, but pushes forward anyway, nipping at his lip, and shuttering when he feels Richie's tongue swipe against his. 

They were both buzzing with anticipation, so much pent up want, flooding around them, and when Eddie finally pushed his tongue into Richie's mouth, he feels a exhilarating shiver run up his spine when Richie groans. 

It's hot, and messy, and wanton. And only lasts for a few more seconds. 

When they break apart both of their faces are flushed bright red, Eddie can see Richie's blush is all the way from his hairline to his collar bone. 

Almost instantly Eddie notices that Richie is most likely overthinking something, because there is a hesitant glint in his eyes. Like he was worried about what Eddie might say. The wheels on his head turning a mile a minute.

Eddie wants to quell that worry, but Richie hurries out. "Don't freak out." 

"I'm pretty sure you're the one freaking out Rich." Eddie begins but Richie cuts him off. 

"It doesn't have to mean anything if you don't want it to. You'll. You'll still be my friend right? You're not going to run away like- like." Richie is almost shaking. 

"Like last time?" Eddie knows what Richie is talking about, and he feels even more guilty. 

He thinks of the best way to calm him down. 

"Yeah no it's fine. You know how you kiss Beverley all the time? And the few times you've kissed Bill?" Eddie begins, and Richie doesn't physically relax yet, so he continues on. 

"We are just. Friends helping friends out." Eddie lets it fall from his lips, watching the tension in Richie's shoulders only slightly give way. 

"Dudes being dudes." Richie offers. 

Eddie nods, "guys being guys." 

"So.. we, kiss as friends?" Richie asks after a few moments, and Eddie nods. 

"But when I kiss Beverly, it's more of like a quick peck or a smack on the lips. And I haven't kissed Bill since? I just i—" 

He's over thinking again.

"Consider this practice. You know, for when I get a girlfriend." 

Richie frowns and Eddie flinches, that wasn't the reaction he wanted. He just wanted to make him feel better. Shit. Do a different one.

"Oh. Okay. Practice." 

Slowly, Eddie gets up, leaning over Richie to grab his first aid kit from his travel bag, remembering to take care of the cut on his lip as he spoke. 

"Well. And. Cause I'm also curious." Eddie tries, watching a spark innate in Richie's eyes. 

He dabs off the blood, using a alcohol wipe to clean the wound, Richie hisses, but otherwise stays still as Eddie works. Spreading some disinfectant, and looking through the kit for a small bandaid. 

"Of what?" It's a simple question. But Eddie is afraid to answer. 

What is Eddie curious about? 

You. 

He presses a small bandage on, and let’s his eyes finally meet Richie’s. 

"Guys." Eddie answers, and after that, it sets a new era, in motion.   
_______________________

It had been a few weeks of constant make out sessions. Eddie would go to Richie's, or Richie would sneak into Eddie's room during the weekends, weekdays. Sleepovers, you named it. Any time they could be alone, they would be mouth to mouth. Admittedly, it was a little bit further then what Richie had ever gotten with any of the other losers. But they didn't think about it too much. 

Currently, Eddie straddles Richie's hips, pressing him into Richie's bed and lapping at his tongue. 

Both of them sucked pretty bad at first. Teeth always knocking together, accidentally biting each other's tongues or getting drool everywhere. The first few times they made out, it always left their mouths bitten red and sloppy with saliva. 

But after a few weeks, they got better at it, and it actually started to feel, good? 

It was still new, but it was exciting, and even with a few mess ups, obviously that didn't stop them from going at it. 

Eddie dragged his teeth other Richie's bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth, and lightly biting down. They had been truly practicing, testing and exploring. 

Deep down Eddie knew, he was really only learning how to kiss Richie, what Richie liked, how fast he wanted it, how much pressure or how to drag those groans out of him. He couldn't use these techniques on anyone else because they weren't specificity Richie. 

But he kept that a secret. 

Richie's hands settles on Eddie's sides, thumbs pressing into his hip bones as Eddie slips his tongue into Richie mouth and instantly smiles at the taste of mint. Richie had started brushing his teeth 3 times a day purely to please Eddie. And It was working. 

He slid his tongue over Richie's, feeling it dance around his, and flick over the roof of his mouth. Eddie wraps his arms around Richie neck, pushing forward until their chests pressed flushed together. Their lips move in sync, soft and plump from all the kissing. Richie lips moved so good against Eddie's, he always felt dizzy after kissing for a while, like his heart and mind were swimming in a pond of.. something.

Pulling away with a pop, Eddie admired the pinkness around Richie's mouth, and the messiness of his hair. His pupils were blown, glasses askew and Eddie always felt so many feelings wash over him when he saw what he could do to Richie. He pressed another kiss on his mouth, letting it move a little bit slower this time, tongue running over his lips, tasting everything he could. 

He hadn't lied before, while more so then anything, Eddie had been interested in Richie, he was also indeed curious about boys. 

This thought over takes him when his eyes had landed on the play girl magazines last week. He and Richie had finished a pretty intense session, drool all over their chins. 

He looks at the images of men on the front page, there was a mix of both Playgirl and Playboy magazines that Richie now had a LOT of, some of which obviously been looked at more then the others, pages being wrinkled and used.

Eddie in that moment had thought, Richie's collection was so big, he won't notice if a few go missing. 

He was wrong though, he knew it would bite him in the ass one day. Sooner or later, and he guesses a week was long enough to notice, because suddenly he is being flipped onto his back, Richie smirking over him. "So. You took two of my favorite issues.” He purrs, carding his hand through Eddie’s hair, messing it up just to piss him off. Of course he knew Eddie also secretly loved it. “Why? Am I not good enough for you?" Richie teases, but there is a hint of worry. 

Eddie feels a blush dust over his cheeks, but he doesn't dare look away, he stands his ground and challenges Richie, never breaking his gaze. 

"Maybe I took some. I'll bring them back for you. I just wanted to know-." Eddie ran his leg up the side of Richie's body, "what you liked so much about those boys." 

He pulls Richie’s head down to his, leaning into his ear to whisper, “maybe I can be one of those boys for you.” It was bold, but Richie’s reaction was worth the embarrassment.

He can feel Richie tremble, eyes dark. He presses forward, his weight comfortable on top of Eddie as he kisses him again, deep and desperate. 

They hadn't done much pass kissing at this point in time, and they definitely hadn't flirted like this before. But something tells Eddie, he might like doing it more often. 

And as they made out for the rest of the afternoon, Eddie decided that maybe he might be gay. And maybe that was okay. 

He pushed his hand up Richie’s shirt, loving the feeling of warm flesh against his fingers, and shivering when Richie followed suit, running his hand over Eddie’s stomach and chest. Biting on Eddie’s bottom lip just to make him whimper. 

It was perfect, and warm, and safe. Whenever Eddie’s mom was being insufferable, Eddie would go to Richie’s, rest in his arms, kissing him soft and gentle. Whenever Richie’s father would yell or god forbid hit him, he would have Eddie to shove his tongue into, kissing long and wanton, before becoming hot and slow. And then loving and caring. 

At this point Eddie would be stupid to deny their chemistry. And their need for each other. 

If Richie was still in love with him. Maybe Eddie would have a chance. He just needed to be brave. Say something. 

As it got darker outside they had to unfortunately separate. Eddie kisses Richie’s a few more times, hands intertwined with his as he was wrapped up in the taller boys arms. 

“Okay I gotta go. Can’t be late.” Eddie reminds, as he held onto the front door knob, not opening it yet because Richie’s lips were still on his, sucking and nibbling his lips. He presses Eddie to the door, kissing him firm and hard, panting when they pull away from the kiss so Eddie could speak again. “I’ll see you tomorrow, afternoon like everyone planned.” Eddie whispers, between kisses, lunging forward again. They couldn’t keep off each other. 

“Okay.” Richie mumbles against his lips, not even bothered by talking into Eddie’s mouth. 

“Seriously I need to go Rich.” Eddie whines but still kisses back anyway, not really putting up much of a fight. 

“Mhm.” Richie grumbles in between kisses, tilting his head to the side to deepen it. “Yeah of course I just have to say bye that’s all.” He says, teasing, not even hiding the fact he has no intentions on actually letting Eddie leave any time soon. 

Eddie runs his hands through Richie’s hair, pulling him in for the searing hot drag of his mouth. “Well, if that’s the case I guess I can understand.” He presses forward again. 

They kissed for maybe five more minutes until Eddie really had to go. 

They were both reluctant as they pulled away, lips bright red and glistening. “Okay. Well I’ll see you tomorrow.” Eddie promises, reaching up to fix a strain of hair. 

Richie nods, watching Eddie, eyes soft, and filled with so much admiration. It makes his heart flutter. He quickly pecks Richie on the lips, surprising the taller boy, and runs off, laughing as Richie calls after him from his porch, throwing playful insults and jokes at him.

Walking home, his steps were a little lighter that night, the sun had just began setting, and it was really pretty, Eddie felt like he was floating on cloud nine. Everything seemed to be coming into place. Maybe. Just maybe Eddie could be happy. And maybe Eddie could let himself enjoy it. 

He opens his front door, feeling the pleasant buzz of energy run throughout his body. He peers into the living room, seeing the TV was still on, but his mother wasn’t in her chair. 

He looks in the kitchen, and realizes she must have gone to bed early. Turning off the TV and picking up some trash, he tidies up the living room before heading up the stairs to his room. 

Brush teeth, floss, comb hair. Maybe take a shower. 

He goes over the list on his head as he opens his bedroom door. 

But he stops straight in his tracks. He can feel his heart drop into his stomach, cannon ball and splash into the acid. He gulped, eyes meeting his mother’s as she holds two play girl magazine’s in her hands, images of almost nude men, sprawled about the pages. 

“What is this Eddie?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for the small little community of people who read this fanfic. Y'all mean the world to me, and every comment you make, just brightens my day so much.
> 
> Also I hope you liked that little poem I (as Ben) made.


	3. The Price Of Sickness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: graphic depictions of abuse. This is based on the abuse I faced during conversion therapy. (Obviously it failed) but If subjects like this is a little too much for you, please brace yourself. Viewer discretion is advised.

"Ma, their nothing. It's nothing—" Eddie tries, but he knows there isn't much hope in trying.  
He feels his hands begin to shake, he can feel acid rise in his throat, it was bitter, yet sweet compared to the thoughts swirling in his head.

She was standing, looming presence towering over him, casting a shadow of doubt. He didn't dare move, or say anything else, she had already silenced him as she rose up her hands.

Slowly, she ripped each page out the the magazine, and Eddie just stood there watching, so many conflicting feelings falling over him. He couldn't return those to Richie, how will he explain this? 

More importantly how could he explain this to his mother. 

As each piece of paper fell to the ground, Eddie adverted his eyes, shying away from the images of shirtless men he had previously been so swept up in the night before, giggling to himself and flipping each page to reveal a new gorgeous man like it was a mystery treasure. 

But now they felt like weight, each page ripped out felt like another hundred pounds dropped on top of him, crushing him slowly. He was going to break. 

Finally he looked into his mother's eyes, seeing disappointment, and even worse- disgust. 

But she didn't seem angry, she seemed calmed, and collected, finishing the last few pages, and tearing them in half. She seemed like she knew what she was doing.

Something about that was scarier then anger.

"Clean this up. And throw it away." She beckons, stepping back from the mess of papers on the floor. Eddie hurries to listen, scrambling onto the floor and picking up the tattered pages, feeling like each tear was a part of him she was insinuating to rip apart, balling up each page and throwing it into his trash-bin next to his bed. 

She doesn't say anything until he's done. 

Then she speaks, tone shifted, from upset to motherly, like she cared about him, like she loved him. 

"Eddie-bear..." she begins, making him look up from his position on the floor. On his knees, He is small, tiny. Looking up at her was like challenging a beast.

"Y-yes mommy..?" Eddie whispered, his voice cracking, plague with the obvious need to please her, even if that made him pathetic. 

"You're sick." She coo's, moving to put a hand under his chin, moving his face up so she could get a better look at him. No. No that's not true, Eddie knows the medicine he takes isn't real. Eddie KNOWS she is sick herself, and forces these ideas onto Eddie. He knows he doesn't have asthma, or allergies. He knows he isn't physically sic—

"In here." She motions with her finger, at his temple, moving to pet his hair, "your sick in the head Eddie. Let mommy help you. Fix you." 

Eddie tries to pull away but her grip on his chin just tightens. "Your dirty Eddie, it's disgusting, and no son of mine will ever have to live with this disease." 

"B-but mom- it, it's isn't my fault-" he feels like a rag doll in her hands.

She smiles, a sickeningly sweet smile. Like she truly believes she means well. Like she believes in what she is doing. "I know honey, I know it isn't your fault. That's why I'm not upset with you Eddie-bear. It's those kids you spend time with. They have been slowly making you sick. But I'll fix it." 

The losers? No. No that's not true. 

"Take off all your clothes." 

The command snaps Eddie out of his thoughts, as he stumbles to stand up. "What?" His voice is laced with genuine confusion, but also fear.

"Take off your clothes." She says more stern, placing her hands on her hips. It's said in a tone that means it's final. 

He feels his knees shake, as he removed his shirt slowly. She starts walking out of his room, and towards the bathroom. 

"Follow me." This time it's said softer. 

He listens, following after her, feeling exposed.  
She opens the shower curtain, moving to clear some space on the side of the tub. 

"Take off the rest of your clothes and sit there. Mommy will be back in a minute." She points to the cold metal tub, and Eddie obeys. As always. 

Removing his pants, he hesitates for a moment, thinking maybe he could get away with keeping his boxers on. But no. No. He is just too worried he might get in trouble for not listening. He doesn't want to make the situation any worse. 

Then he is naked, and cold, sitting with his legs crossed, arms covering his body. He doesn't know what is going to happen. If she is going to scrub him clean like she used to when he was a kid, she would have ran the bath, but she didn't turn anything on. It was quiet. And something about that, was loud. Deafening.

The bathroom door opens and Eddie does his best to hold his breath. She has a bucket from their laundry room, filled with ice. He stares at it, millions of things ticking through his mind a second. 

And next to the bucket of ice, she sets down a can of salt. He lets out the breath he was holding. 

"I want you, to put this in your lap. On, your. Area—" she gestures between his legs, "we can numb you, maybe even fix the way those thoughts make you feel. It will teach you, and your body, and mind, to behave better. To be better." She says it in such a confident way Eddie almost believes her. 

"If it doesn't feel numb enough, add salt, add more salt every time you feel like thinking about men. Don't worry Eddie-bear. I'm not judging you, as long as you make an effort, you can get better." She hands him a scoop of ice, he cradles it in his hands, the sharp contrast of freezing cold causing him to jump. 

He looks up at her, ready to plead, but one glance tells him all he needs to know, he isn't getting out of this. 

He hisses at the feeling, pressing the ice into his lap, it slightly melting already from his body heat, causing cold water to run down his thighs. His dick, on the other hand, is getting the worse end of the deal. It feels like needles are prodding him, and it is already sore just from the first few seconds. 

He winces, and clenches his fist, trying to get through it. To stay sane, or at least not freak out.

"You're not gay." His mother pipes up, and it was so sudden and jarring he just stares at her. "Say it." She demands, and he bites his lip. 

"Mom—" 

She grabs the salt and hands it to him, and he feels his blood run cold, his stomach is flipping out, as he reaches for the can, sprinkling the bare minimum into his lap. 

It's beginning to burn now. This isn't okay. This shouldn't be okay. Is this his fault? Was he to blame? All he knows for sure is, he wants it to stop more then anything in the world. 

"Say it." She deadpans again.

"I'm not gay." He gives in, body shaking from the uncomfortable pain. He will do or say anything she wants if it gets the pain to stop.

"Good." She praises, but doesn't let him remove the ice, instead, she adds more. He can feel tears begin welling in his eyes. He bites the inside of his cheek, and focuses on breathing in and out. 

"You stay here. And do this exercise, for however long you think it's needed. Then you can take a bath." She says, as if she was being so considerate, and kind to him. 

"Okay mommy." He whispers, allowing her to, one last time, add a little bit more salt. Before leaving with the bucket, and closing the door behind her. 

It takes a moment. But it begins to burn even worse then before. Like he was melting, and it was too much to bare. He begins panicking, he knows, he knows it shouldn't hurt this badly. He grinds his teeth, tries to power through it but his body won't let him, no matter how much he wants to be fixed, it hurts too much. 

He dumps the ice out of his lap, and tries to wipe away the salt, turning on the hot water in the shower in sheer panic, he grabs the shower head, and rinses his thighs and dick off, feeling the contrast was almost as painful as the ice. But slowly, he warmed up, and breathed through the pain. He had probably only had the ice on him for a little more then thirty seconds. But it felt like hours. 

Placing the shower head back, it is only then when he realizes how much he is shaking. He slides to the bottom of the tub slowly, already choked up from it all. He doesn't know how long he cried sitting at the bottom of the shower, the water hitting his bare back. 

But It feels like acid washing away his sins. 

Disgusting. Disgusting. Disgusting. 

He cried harder, head between his knees, as he rocked himself back and forth, allowing the loud water to drown out the whimpers. 

He sometimes has memories: those of what his fears were, and why they tormented him. He remembers the leper offering him a blow job at the neibolt house and he turns on the water to scalding hot to wash away everything.

That was a disgusting, terrible, horrible memory. Why would he even consider being that way? 

Richie.

He tugs on his hair, feeling like he might rip it out of his scalp. Richie. Richie. The same Richie he made out with not even a few hours ago. The one he wanted to be around all the time, the one that made him feel like he was the only person on the earth. Richie. Who made him feel so special, and important. And safe and cared for. Who made tornados swirl in his stomach with one kiss. And who could calm that storm with another. 

Richie didn't make him feel disgusting. 

But maybe Eddie was confused. 

Some storms have only just begun, but still, leave the windshield wipers on, there may not be any rain falling from the sky but there is some leaking from broken eyes.  
_____________________

"You're what?" Beverley seems more shocked then anyone else at the moment. Or maybe that's just because she is the only one expressing emotion. All the other losers seem speechless. Stan being one amongst that group. 

Eddie clears his throat, avoiding eye contact with any of them. "Straight." 

There is a pregnant pause, like they were waiting for Eddie to laugh, like it was a joke. But he stayed still, unrelenting in his new proclamation. 

"Like. A heterosexual?" Ben tries to be helpful, but his tone seems worried. 

Eddie nods, looking up and instantly regretting it. He sees Stan, his stare is intense, and easy to read. Why are you lying to us? 

Eddie stares back, trying to convey any sort of confidence in his identity. 

Bill, sitting next to Eddie, places his hand on his shoulder. The group had met up at Bill's house, they all rallied up in his room. Eddie was on Bill's bed, legs crossed, trying to hide himself into Bill's body. Ben is sitting at Bill's drawing desk with Stan, Mike is on the floor, with Beverley sitting on top of Richie. 

Eddie makes a point to not look in Richie's direction. 

"When did you come to this conclusion?" Stan deadpans, skeptical as always. Or maybe that's not the word. It's more like he believes what Eddie said was utter bullshit. 

Eddie persists anyway. "I'm straight. It took a lot of time, and thinking. But I've finally come to the realized I'm, I'm not gay you know." Against his better judgement, Eddie's eyes scan the room and land on Richie, he doesn't seem to react, just tightens his arms around Beverley's waist, while she holds his head, comforting him. "Not that there is anything bad with being gay." Eddie hurries out. 

Richie laughs softly. "Gee thanks Eds." It sounds bitter, but it's truly genuine. It's the opposite of what he expected. 

"Well-" Mike begins, making the room turn to him, "we are happy you figured things out, and decided to tell us." 

Everyone slowly nods. Even though a few—Stan— don't agree, they still will always be supportive of Eddie. Of any of the losers. 

"So when did you know? Did you just realize or?" Beverley asks, now cradling Richies face in her chest, like a worried mother. 

"I guess. I was confused, when I had came out before, I was young and didn't know better. I hopes that's okay." 

Everyone doesn't even bat an eye, giving him thumbs up or hums of aprovement. But, he can feel the hair on the back of his neck stand when Richie speaks up. "I'm happy for you Eds." 

Eddie doesn't know why that makes him upset.  
__________________

There’s a funny feeling, that comes with uncertainty. And it’s even more complicated when you don’t know why you feel it. It’s like floating in water that is spinning. It feels like you are moving, but you’re really going nowhere. 

Where is Eddie going? What does he hope to accomplish? Is it because he is afraid. Of his mother. Yes. Of being gay. Maybe. Of the way Richie makes his legs turn to jelly and the air escape his lungs? Definitely. 

Does he hate Richie? No, but does he hate the way he feels about Richie? Yes. 

Eddie can never run away from it, every day, when he gets home, he thinks about Richie, he is consumed by thoughts of Richie every day. And when they would kiss, Richie would lay in Eddie’s bed, and look so pretty, with his hair messy and lips red. 

He shouldn’t be allowed to leave his smell on Eddie’s pillows, it lingers and leaves him soft. Even after he is gone. Eddie shouldn’t be affected by his scent. It feels like his emotions have been invaded and it’s unfair. Why can’t he choose how he feels about this. Choose to hate the smell, rather then find comfort. 

And there it is again, cigarettes and bubblegum, aftershave with a hint of cologne. It’s invasive, on the carpet of Bill’s bedroom floor. Everyone is asleep, everyone but Eddie, he can’t stop the gears in his head from turning. And they are so loud. Richie, like always, lays next to him. It’s normal, but now it feels like Eddie is suffocating. Not being able to touch him, he’s so stiff. He’s so close, yet so far. 

Eddie turns, trying to not wake anyone else. He whispers, “you awake Rich?” There’s a pause, filled with nothing but soft breathing, until Eddie hears Richie responds. “yeah.” 

It's quiet, and dark. The sound of everyone else's snoring is calm yet drowning. 

“I think I need to separate myself from you. Just for a little bit. We—“ he instinctively lowers his voice, “because of the kissing.”

“That should change anything between us Eds—“ Richie’s voice comes out hoarse and defensive. 

“I know. I know. I just need time.” Eddie hurries out, and feel his heart tighten when Richie sucks in a breath. 

“How much time?” 

There is a moment where nether of them speak, grasping at straws, and trying to find the words to explain how they feel. And it’s difficult, it’s difficult for any sixteen year old. 

“I don’t know.” Eddie all but whispers. It’s so tiny and broken. And like always, Richie understands. “Okay.” It’s all he says. It’s all he needs to say.

For once Eddie isn’t sure if he is making the right choice. He’s going at this blind, and hoping for the best. All he knows is, if he spends too much time around Richie, he will inevitably kiss him. Because he always wants to so bad. 

Spend less time with Richie, less gay thoughts. 

Simple plan, simple result. Right?

“I’ll be supportive Eds. I will, I just hope, more then anything, that we can still be friends. I— I care about you, a lot.” Richie struggles to find the words to say. 

“I know.” Eddie coo’s, and it lays Richie to rest. 

That night, they go to sleep for the first time in a long time, not saying goodnight. 

___________________

Eddie wakes up to his alarm Monday morning. Like always, he wakes up an hour early before school, so he can shower, floss, brush his teeth, hair, and prepare his backpack. 

Heading downstairs, he can smell the slightly burnt toast his mom made, she has been in a better mood lately, now that she thinks she has cured Eddie. 

She has. Hasn’t she? 

He eats, and goes back up stairs to brush his teeth again. Then he hops onto his bike, and rides off to school. It’s clockwork at this point. He goes to his locker, puts away his notebooks, and meets Bill at the library. 

“Morning.” Bill waves, and gives Eddie a friendly smile. Which Eddie attempts to return, and obviously fails, because Bill frowns, leaning forward in his seat to talk, “what’s wrong?” 

Eddie places his math journal on the table, flipping through the pages and pointing at one of the tests. “This.” 

It’s a 67% another math test failed. 

Bill winces, and pats Eddie’s shoulder soothingly. “You need a tutor man.” 

“Yeah maybe. I can’t fail any more tests, if my mom finds out my grades dropped? She won’t let me hang out with the losers for a MONTH.” Eddie cards a hand through his hair, heaving a tired sigh. 

“Well, let me r-remind you— of Audra, and the AP student program. S-s-she helped me in SS, and now I’m passing w-with a B.” Bill slides Eddie a sign up sheet. And at this point Eddie is in no position to pass up some help. 

Classes, are boring. Eddie used to really enjoy school, the rush of learning something new, and being able to apply that knowledge in life. But now he knows everything you learn is bullshit. It doesn’t and won’t help you. It definitely won’t help when a killer clown is after you. 

Mike sits next to Eddie, and they pass notes through out the day, small doodles of frogs or fluffy animals. Then they eat lunch. Which usually is the highlight of Eddie’s day. He gets to see all the losers. But now he dreads it, because for the first time in— well ever, he and Richie do not sit next to each other. And it’s obvious that everyone notices. Still. No one says anything. 

It’s grueling, the rest of the day. A cloud hangs over his head, but he knows it’s for the better. The more he distances himself from Richie. And faster and easier it will be for him to get over him. When school ends, Mike walks Eddie to his locker, and is greeted by Beverley and Stan, all passing back and forth general summaries of their days. 

Eddie almost leaves when Bill and Ben pass by, Bill reminding him of the tutoring program. “Oh! Right. Okay I’ll go do that.” 

It’s weird being in school after hours, the hallways becoming more and more dispersed. The losers had already left, and Eddie was alone. He makes his way back to the library, finding the librarian in the back who oversees the function. “Oh! You must be the Eddie Kasbrak who signed up this morning yes?” She asks, looking over the paper work at her desk. 

“Yes that is me.” He smiles, attempting to be as polite as possible. 

“Well alright, I have two student tutors as of now. One female, one male, would you prefer something in particular or are you okay with either?” She looks through the papers, and Eddie can see the girl, redhead, bright smile, setting up her work desk at one of the tables in the back. Eddie remember the promise he made to Bill, about the girl Audra. 

“Uh, I’d rather the male.” He says nonchalantly, and the librarian just laughs softly, “of course, I know how you boys are, with the coodies and everything.” Eddie just simply nods, and takes the paper she hands him. “Okay, go to that back room over there, he should be here soon.” 

He finds the quiet room, and closes the door behind him, sitting down to read over the paper. To be a tutor you must be a AP student, who excels in all your classes, but who also needs extra credit. Eddie can’t seem to wrap his head around what type of person that would be. 

And then the door opens, and Eddie instantly knows he was wrong. He knows exactly the type of person that would be. 

“Eds?” Richie steps in, holding textbooks and papers. He seems just as surprised. But all Eddie knows is that this will be the death of him.


	4. Rebellion

Technically, Eddie isn't breaking his rules. Well. Okay. Maybe. Take that back. Because—

He totally is. 

But it's only because it is necessary, you know-his grades are very important. So, so very important to him. And so what if he and Richie meet up twice a day now to do tutoring. So what if they spend hours together, alone, in a small room, sitting next to each other, everyday. Eddie REAAALLY cares about his grades. He couldn't fail, if he did, he would have to repeat his grade, and fall behind all his friends. And then he would have to spend another year in this miserable hellhole, give up because it's not worth it, and drop out. He would live on the street, alone and cold. Hungry, and the desperation for food will drive him to do ANYTHING. What if he becomes a drug addict, or maybe a hooker. And then he would get aids, and DIE. 

'How did this poor soul end up here?' The coroner asks the hospital staff as they drag a dead hobo hooker into the morgue. 

'He failed his algebra math test.' The diener mumbles solemnly. 

'If only he just studied with the guy he had vaguely homoerotic dreams about..' 

He definitely didn't want to die. This was a necessary thing to do. For his future, for his LIFE. He COULDN'T let that happen. It was the most rational choice. 

And the way Richie's fingers brushed against his when they reach for the textbook— totally didn't mean anything.

When Richie walked through that door the first day, Eddie had a completely different outlook at the time however. He thought he would put up a fight. But he caved instantly. Of course he did. It was Richie after all. 

"Eds?" Richie was just as surprised, if not more, slowly inching into the room and shutting the door firmly behind him. 

"Hi." Eddie whispered, trying desperately to figure out how to use his voice. His whole goal, was to avoid Richie, to not be near him and definitely not be alone. And here they were, in a small room, secluded from the school, one on one. 

He could feel the undersides of his arms sweat. It was uncomfortable, and made him quickly realize how hard his heart was thumping in his chest. 

Richie, slowly, and wary, sat down next to Eddie, and placed his notebooks on the table. His folders and textbooks were surprisingly neat and organized, he must have been doing this for a while, and never told anyone. How did Bill not even know?

"You okay?" He asks softly, as if he was worried Eddie was about to have a mental breakdown. Eddie sucked in a breath, and nodded his head, forcing a smile onto his lips. "No. Yeah I'm fine. I just—"

"Wasn't expecting me?" Richie offered, leaning back in his chair, and folding in on himself, protectively. He didn't look Eddie in the eyes, he didn't even face him, just stared at the door as he spoke. "It's okay. I understand. I'd be disappointed too-"

"No, no I'm not disappointed!" Eddie hurried out, leaning into Richie's space, "I'm just surprised that's all! But this actually works out better. Because. You know, I know you, and I don't have to pretend to enjoy being in your company like I might for other people." 

Richie turned his gaze to Eddie slowly, trying to read if his words were sincere. And it was true. Maybe a little bit too true. 

"You like being in my company?" Richie questioned like a wounded puppy. Eddie's heart sank into his gut, and he nodded, "of course I do Rich. You're amazing." 

There was a pause, even though it was slight, it didn't go unnoticed. 

"That's what your mom said last night." Richie grinned, and there he was, back and stupid as always. 

It had been weeks of constant meet ups. And it actually was helping with Eddie's grades. It was slow at first because he found it hard to pay attention when Richie's hair was in touching distance, and his lips were sooo soft looking..

But soon Eddie's grades were going from 'C's to solid 'B-'s. 

This morning, is like every other. Eddie waits in the back room of the library for Richie like always. He redraws that one carving on the bridge he saw that reminded him of Richie. R+E. Who would have thought someone else on the kissing bridge had the same initials. Though that probably wasn't far fetched. Rick and Eleanor. Roger and Emily. Rachel and Ethan. Rose and Elliot. Definitely not Richard and Edward. 

There was a lot of options. Still, he would smile fondly at it every time he'd ride pass the bridge. 

Nothing was happening between them. It was cold and damp. Just a trickle of water. It was slow, and controlled. The feelings Eddie felt. He was able to keep them at bay.

The door slowly opens and Eddie quickly shuts his journal, not caring if he lost the page. Turning to greet Richie, he stops dead in his tracks once his eyes land on him. 

Richie got braces.

"Yeah, my old man wanted to bond with me or something. Our relationship has its ups and downs you know. But there are moments when it's nice." Richie never spoke about his father like this. There must have been something good happening in his home life. 

"So... he got you braces? How is that a bonding thing?" Eddie questioned, unable to look away.

He makes a show of showing off his new sets of wires. Normal people would think it just made him look even more like a nerd. But Eddie was more so, curious about what it would be like to kiss someone with braces. A little too much. 

Suddenly the trickle was a puddle. 

"I don't know, maybe because he has to remind me to floss, or wear rubber bands. Anything that is considered normal human interaction. He thinks it's a bonding experience." Richie picked at them, sliding down to sit in his seat. 

Needless to say, this specific session was useless, because all of Eddie's energy was focused onto not pouncing on the boy. He was able to pull through, because Richie kept complaining about how sore his teeth were, and kept making stupid jokes every time they saw a U.S. president in the history book. 

"Franklin Pierce was kind of hot, I can't lie to you Eddie. My homosenses are tingling." Richie swooned over the page leaning into Eddie, while he tries to shove him away, "shut up. He is gross and old." 

"Well I do have a type Eds, I do fuck your mom—" he grins extra wide, the metal in his mouth distracting from his smile, when Eddie punches his shoulder. 

"The only think you'll be fucking is, is fucking dead if you don't shut the fuck up." Eddie grumbles, contemplating some form of arson to get back at him. 

"Awe, there's the fire I've been waiting for! Have I died and gone to heaven?" Richie bats his eye lids, and Eddie rolls his eyes, pretending that wasn't insanely cute. 

"No, because if it was. You definitely wouldn't be here." 

"Ohhhh! Eds gets off a good one!"

A pool of emotions splashes about and engulfs Eddie, he tries to swim, stay afloat, deny the water is rising. 

It lasted like that for a month, Eddie and Richie making excuses to study together even though Eddie's grades were better then they had ever been before. Anything to be closer. They both just really enjoyed tutoring! 

And sitting together during lunch. And hanging out after school, and sleeping over with each other's houses, and playing in the arcade together, and passing notes back and forth, and sitting in the hammock together in the club house, and riding their bikes together. You know. All for the sake of Eddie's education.

Everything was going swimmingly. 

Hehe. Swimmingly. 

Then Eddie got punched in the face. 

"What the fuck Greta?!" He can hear Beverley yell, when he hits the ground. There's a sharp ringing noise in his ears that makes him want to rip his hair out. 

Eddie cups his eye, and scoots back, instinctively hiding behind Mike's legs as he steps in between them. All they were doing was picking up some cough syrup for Bill at the pharmacy, because he was sick, but that wasn't enough of an excuse for him to get out of having a Loser's fair well party. He wasn't moving as of right now, but it was in the near future. And no one liked the thought of that, even Eddie was willing enough to be in the same room as a sick person. But only if he was being taken cared of. So here they were, getting some medicine for Bill so he can feel better while everyone slept over. And that was when Eddie bumped into Greta while he was looking for sleeping strips. 

But that wasn't what made Greta punch him. He turned to apologize instantly, "woah! Sorry I didn't see you there." Eddie coo'd in the calmest voice he could muster. Greta just rolled her eyes, cocking her hip out. "I thought it was that fairy who was the blind one in your group?" She punctuates the 'P' with the pop of her bubblegum. 

Beverley groans audibly from behind Eddie. "Give it a rest Greta, being a bitch doesn't look good on you." 

Greta scolds, her features twisting up unpleasantly, "back off Marsh. Don't you know to only speak when spoken to?" She barks back. 

Eddie can just see the fire burning in Beverley's eyes as she takes a step forward, he puts his arm in front of her chest, stopping her. "Bev, it's not worth it—"

"Awe, why is it that all your friends are flammers huh Marsh?" Her voice was vile, but not as vile as her words. Flammer. How would she know that? 

"What's wrong? Looks like a dear caught in the headlights!" She laughs pointing at Eddie, "you upset girly-boy?" 

Eddie flinches, as if he had been physically assaulted, the words bouncing around in his head. So familiar, too familiar. He feels like his head is spinning. He fights back the tears. 

"At least I'm not a whore." Eddie bites back, not knowing where the sudden spark of confidence came from. He immediately regretted it. 

'Thud'

He didn't think he would hit the ground so hard from a punch thrown by Greta, but here he was, gingerly touching his sore eye and cowering behind Mike for protection. 

It was three against one. Greta didn't stand a chance. But not because Eddie or Mike was there. But because Beverley threw a earth shattering punch that sent Greta into the shelving unit with bottles of medication. 

She didn't relent, jumping onto her and punching her shitless. Mike had to remove a fumming Beverley off of Greta almost instantly. 

"Bev! Bev! Beverley please! Stop, she will get seriously injured!" Mike pleaded, and Beverley just yelled back, "that's a point!" He can hear the strain in her voice, filled with protective passion, but also anger.

Eddie watched for a moment, her tirelessly slap and hit, pulling at Greta's hair and cursing her out. He knew, Beverley hated getting angry. Hated violence, hating the idea of becoming someone like that. Like her father. That wasn't who she was. 

"Beverley stop." Eddie spoke up. It was soft, but firm. And it seemed to resonate with Beverley because the moment he spoke, she slowed down, and then came to a pause, letting Mike pull her off Greta. It seemed like a epiphany when she looked down at her hands, and then Greta. Who was screaming at her, and holding her nose, because it was bleeding.

She quickly changed her priorities, and kneeled down next to Eddie, leaving Greta to fend for herself, while cupping his face and looking over his eye, tenderly moving his hand to get a better look. 

"Eddie.." she whispered, and he could see true remorse and sadness in her eyes. He just shook his head, reaching to hold her hand. "It's okay. You're okay." He mumbled. 

"I- I didn't mean to—" her voice came out broken, and he pulled her into a hug, holding tight. He understood every word she said, without her even needing to say anything. "I know." He whispered. 

That's one thing neither of them wanted. To become their parents. 

She pressed her face into his chest, and cried, and he cried too, all of what happened finally processing in his head. 

Mike shielded then from view of the public eye, basically almost carrying both of them in his strong arms, and bringing them back to Bill's house. 

And they still were misty eyed when the made it back to Bill's. Stepping into his room, Beverly and Eddie clung to each other, Mike being the valiant protector. Bill and Ben were looking over some books, but instantly stopped when they saw them. Mike explained what happened while Eddie and Beverley sat down on their favorite spot on the floor, in their own little world. Petting each other's hair, and saying reassurances. Bill quickly got out of his bed, despite Mike's protests, and got a ice packet to put on Eddie's eye. 

And he cried. At first he thought it was because of the pain on his face. But it wasn't. They all knew it wasn't once Mike told the story. As they stumbled over their words, crying out, Beverley realized he needed some time away from his mother. 

Flammer. Fairy. Girly boy. Faggot. Sissy. Words he was way too familiar with at this point. Everyone, even Richie was called those things. But Eddie got it the worse through out his youth. Maybe because he was emotional, and clean. Neat and easily worried. Did that make someone gay? 

Well the answer didn't matter. What did matter was—

Was Eddie sick? Thats the hot button question always swirling around in that head of his. If he was, how did it happen? 

"I'll give you a blowjob for a nickel?" The leaper heaves. No! Eddie isn't like that. He denies it. 

"Girly boy!" Dr. Keene keeps saying that. It makes Eddie angry. 

"Flammer!" Henry Bowers always barks. Eddie wants to beg to make it go away.

"Say it." His mom demands. He feels sad, depressed by the claims.

"I'm not gay." He gives in. But does he accept it?

The pain. The bright red scars left on his thighs from the burn of the cold. It's all negative, the feelings, the emotions they are all bad. 

"I am in love with you." 

Except that one. 

Did........?

Did... Richie make Eddie sick? Did Eddie catch it? 

Or did Eddie get Richie sick? Infect him even though he knew he was dirty, that he knew what he thought about Richie was bad. 

They had only been 11, when Eddie first thought of Richie, in a way a young boy shouldn't about a friend. 

Richie, at the time had discovered for the first time, that it was truly, very funny, to pretend to be gay. Flirting or making suggestive comments to his friends. Teasing them or insinuating that they had a thing for him. 

Based on what Eddie knows about Richie now. It might not have been totally an act. That was something Richie always did— attempt to be serious, and if it failed, played it off like the joke of the century. 

Eddie never found it funny though. 

Because when Richie would insist Stan dance with him, or make Bill carry him like a bride through the neighborhood. All it did was make his chest feel tight, and his hands feel sweaty. 

And when Richie would turn his attention to him— pulling him into hugs, giving him noogys, or wet willys. Blowing raspberry's into his stomach until he would scream uncle or cry because he was going to pee himself from the laughter. 

It made Eddie jitter with excitement. 

It had been that day. That day Richie fell off his skateboard, and scuffed up his chin on the ground. It wasn't even really that bad of a scratch. But he teared up anyway. And Eddie couldn't bare seeing him cry. He didn't want Richie to be in pain. He didn't think about it really, leaning forward and kissing Richie's chin, as if kissing it would make it better. 

There was a second of ignorant bliss, before Eddie had realized what he had done. 

But Richie just looked up at him with his big eyes, and smiled. Thanked him, like what he had done truly took away the pain. 

Eddie knew, what he did wasn't necessarily bad. But the reason he did it was, and he wanted to do it again. That wasn't okay. But he just smiled back, and left it alone. 

Did Eddie infect Richie? Make him sick, and then leave him to deal with it alone? 

"Eddie, whatever you are thinking about so hard over there about. Is fucking bullshit." Richies voice pierces through his thoughts, and he looks at Richie across the living room, standing at Bill's bedroom door with Stan behind him. He brought in snacks. 

"I know that look." He starts up again, "it's the 'I'm Eddie and I'm stupid because I keep blaming myself for Shit' look. Quit it or I'll have to smack it out of your brain." 

Richie just grins, again with those damn braces. And moves to sit between him and Beverley. She lays her head in his lap, and allows him to comfort her by carding a hand through her hair. But he never breaks eye contact with Eddie. 

They stare at each other, waiting for the other to speak. But all Eddie does his rest his head on Richie's shoulder. It's a small gesture, but it's enough to bring a smile to both of their faces. 

"Well." Stan announces, throwing a few pillows at the rest of the group. "While everyone sulks around, I suggest the rest of us get to building." Everyone else agrees, leaving Eddie, Richie and Beverley in their corner of the room. 

"Bill." Mike reminds, forcing him to sit back down in his bed. "You are sick. You get a pass on fort construction today." 

They stay like that for a while, watching Ben and Mike bring up couch cushions and chairs into the room, blankets and sheets. 

Soon Beverley is able to get up and help, putting up decorations, and reinforcing structures. Securing foundations while Ben ties the sheets together. 

There is so much happening, when Eddie finally speaks, it's so quiet under all the noise around them, Richie almost doesn't hear it. "I feel like I don't know where I'm going. Like I'm at the dead end of a road I didn't know I was on." 

Richie just sighs, and buries his face into Eddie's hair, before speaking against his head softly, "It's okay, to feel trapped and not sure. I'm not very eloquent with my words. But Eds. You are, just, the strongest, bravest person I know. And even if it takes time. You'll find your way, and make the best decision." Richie looked at him, eyes so tender Eddie might just melt into the floor boards under the heat of his glance. Eddie knew, just from the small sincere smile on Richie's face, he meant every word, and meant it from the bottom of his heart. 

The pool was suddenly a lake. And Eddie was in the middle of it, trying to keep paddling and not sink in. Everywhere he looked, was just more water, seemingly never ending. But it wasn't scary. No. That was the worse part. It was so inviting and warm, to just dive head first. 

Eddie and Richie finally join in, going into the guest rooms and snagging the comforters and pillows off the beds. Might as well trash the place before Bill has to move. 

And once everything is set up, and all the Losers settled into the middle of the fort, laying beside each other, there was a calm sadness that fell over them all. 

"Do you guys want to try some weed?" Beverley offers, and it's such a sudden out of the blew question that no one knows what to say. Well, no one besides Richie. "Hell fucking yeah I do." He pumps his fist in the air and sits up. 

"Woah, are we sure we are allowed to do that in Bill's house?" Stan questions, as they all settle into a circle. 

"Well, they won't notice because right now they are too busy h-h-house hunting." Bill says, and it stings. All of them wince at the thought. 

The news was devastating when Bill told everyone. It was during lunch. It ended up in everyone in tears or yelling. It was mainly Richie and Mike who yelled the most. But they all understood why his parents wanted to move. They were trying to find something new, because the old one is just too much to bare living in anymore after Georgie's death, every time they passed his room it reminded them of him. The losers, they truly understood, but it doesn't stop anyone from feeling their hearts gape open at loosing their leader. Still, everyone tried to avoid the topic as much as they could. None of them wanted to grow up. None of them wanted the consequences that came with growing older, and drifting apart. 

As if the sadness was something of a physical presence, suddenly Ben and Mike agreed to smoke some of the weed as well. 

"Maybe it will keep my mind off of things." Mike suggested, as Beverley begins pulling out the small blunt from her bra. 

"I'll try it t-t-to. But I'll go l-l-last. Don't want anyone else g-getting sick." Bill also gives in, leaving Stan and Eddie as always. 

"It's hard." Ben says to Bill, placing his hand in his, "dealing with loss. And so young too." 

Bill gives Ben a sad smile and nods, "have you lost a-anyone?" Bill questions, and Ben nods. 

"My dad. He was, a soldier. Sometimes I think I can still hear him. He died fighting in the army. We don't even know how it happened. You know, how he died." Ben says slowly, and the mood shifted, as each of them moved to comfort him. 

"My dad died too." Eddie offers, his voice is shaky however, and he avoids everyone's eye contact. Ben moves to sit next to him, and they just smile sadly at each other. "Well I think your dad would have been proud of who you are." Ben says, and Eddie felt like crying. "I think yours would be even more." Eddie said back, and Ben lets out a wet laugh. "I hope." 

As each person shared their own feelings on the subject of loss, Beverley and Richie took it upon themselves to light the blunt, passing it back and forth between each other easily and taking large hits. 

Mike then takes his turn, and almost coughs the entirely of his lungs out of his body. "Holy shit. How do you guys do this without dying??" Mike asks clutching his chest while passing it to Ben.

Like Mike he has the same reaction, coughing until his throat was sore. "Wow. That's a lot." Ben says, but takes another hit after noticing Beverley watching. She smiled at him, and he forces himself to not cough as much. Which just makes him cough more. 

Eddie cringes internally and physically. Why would someone do that? It looks so painful. Eddie definitely would never—

"You want to try Eds?" Richie asks, giving him that soft smile he always does whenever he looked at Eddie. And only Eddie. 

Eddie swallows hard, "Uh sorry. But I don't know if you know but I have asthma—" 

"Actually, I happen to KNOW, that you do not have asthma." Richie grins when Eddie falls short in his sentence. Because, yeah he was right. Eddie was perfectly healthy. 

"What about you Stan? Want a hit?" Beverley asks, and he shakes his head, "no, I'm Jewish." 

"What the FUCK, does being Jewish have to do with getting fucking CRUNK?" Richie asks, seeming offended, "weren't you the one who got wasted on my mom's wine?" 

"Yes but wine has some health benefits." Stan tries to defend but Richie just laughs harder, "yeah maybe like one glass, not six Stanley. Plus, who are you to say weed doesn't give you health benefits? This is the 80's Stanley, get with the times!" 

Everyone argues over wether marijuana has any good or bad effects on a human, while Richie turns his attention back to Eddie. 

"So? Wanna try?" He asks, leaning closer. And that's not fair. He can't just invade Eddie's personal space and expect him to think straight. Literally and figuratively. 

"I don't know. That seems kind of intimidating." Eddie mumbles pointing at the joint between Richie's fingers. He looks down at it and cracks a smile. "Would you rather a bong?" 

Eddie just stares at him. "I don't even know what that means Rich.” That makes Richie laugh hard, and Eddie can feel the blush color his cheeks with embarrassment for not knowing. 

“Okay. How about a shot gun?” Richie finally suggests, leaning closer. And Eddie can faintly smell the familiar scent of his toothpaste. “What?” Eddie didn’t want to ask if he was talking about a literal gun, because he figured he wasn’t. 

“I take a drag from this,” he points at the joint, “and then I blow the smoke into your mouth. You have to inhale though, like breath it in.” Richie explains, but all Eddie can do, is stare at his lips. 

“Common Richie, q-q-quit pestering him. He isn’t a r-rebel like you.” Bill teases, and Eddie flares at him. Sick or not, anyone can catch these hands. 

“Fine. I’ll do it.” Eddie announces, and everyone suddenly looks towards them, being so obvious that they were listening. 

Richie grins, and puts the blunt up to his lips, inhaling sharply, before passing it to Beverley. He cups the back of Eddie’s head, and Eddie can feel his heart beat spike. Then places his hand between their lips, and creates a tunnel with his fingers, and Eddie is disappointed, but still presses his lips against Richie’s hand. He blows out, and Eddie remembers what he was told, to inhale. He breaths in. And for the first few moments, he actually thinks, ‘hey, this isn’t that bad?’ 

And then his lungs burn, and he is sent into a panic, coughing all the smoke from his lungs until his eyes watered, and his legs went weak. Richie firmly patted his back, coaching him through it. 

“You okay? Maybe this isn’t for you.” Richie’s offers, and Eddie is quick to agree, laying back onto the floor. 

Bill is handed the blunt last, and is the best to handle the smoke, but still can’t bring himself to finish it off. 

Richie takes it, and is about to hand it to Beverly, when he notices she is missing. “Uh, where’s Bev?” Richie says slightly panicked, kind of like a déjà vu moment. 

Eddie looks around, and spots some legs ag Bill’s door from under the fort. “Oh I think I see—“ he pauses when he sees the other pair of feet. Ben’s.

Everyone else catches on pretty quickly. 

Richie grins. “Ooooooohhh, whatcha two up to?” He moves to grab their ankles and scares them, laughing when they both crawl back into the fort cursing at him. 

They were both blushing, Ben more so then Beverley though. But it was sweet. Really. 

So. Ben finally made a move. And got the girl. Great. 

No seriously, that’s great. But it’s also, not so great. Because now Eddie is the only one stuck in the pinning club. 

No- wait Eddie wasn’t pinning—

“Woah! It’s 8:30. I do actually gotta go.” Richie says looking up at the clock on Bill’s wall. 

Beverly whines, “since when did you have dinner with your parents Rich?” Which was true, he never even wanted to spend time with them, and vice versa. 

“Well, first off, it’s just my mom. And it’s her birthday today, so it’s a special occasion, I told you guys that when I got here.” He reminds, and they all sigh. He gives them all a apologetic look as he goes to put on his shoes. “I promise I’ll try to be back later tonight maybe? If I can sneak out.” 

He walks out the bed room, and last second, Eddie quickly struggles to crawl out from under the blankets. 

Eddie follows him to Bill’s front door, trying to find any excuse to be alone with him. To have some more time.

“Hey Rich.” He says softly, and Richie turns to him while putting on his coat. “Hey Eds.” He whispers, placing his hand on the door knob. It reminds Eddie way too much of when they would makeout, and Richie would try and get him to stay a little longer. 

“I just wanted to say. Thank you, for earlier today. And for just being understanding in general.” Eddie promises, watching the grin roll across Richie’s lips. It sets a warm feeling ablaze in his stomach. “And I promise. No more trying to avoid you. No more distance. No more of that stupid shit. You are my friend, and you deserve to be treated like one.” And he means it this time. 

Richie, moves forward, it’s a quick action, engulfing Eddie up into his arms, and pressing a chase kiss on his temple. “I think maybe the weed is setting in.” Richie mumbles into his hair, and Eddie snorts, batting at his chest. 

“Yeah haha. Laugh it up.” Eddie grumbles with no real bite when Richie chuckles. 

“Well. You better keep that promise Eds. I’ll hold you to it.” Richie says pulling away from Eddie. 

He holds onto Eddie’s shoulders, and Eddie grips his hips. “I’m counting on it.” 

“Well alright. I’ll be back as soon as possible then.” Richie opens the door, allowing the cold breeze to invade the house. 

"Seeya later, alligator." Eddie says, and Richie just laughs light heartedly. "See you later Eds." 

"No." Eddie shook his head, smiling patiently, "You're supposed to say—" 

"After a while crocodile." Richie finished for him. "You got it." Eddie grins, it’s so light hearted. And reminds Eddie so much of when they were younger.

Richie winks at him goodbye. And Eddie now understands. He is in the ocean, with a title wave looming heavy above his head. It crashes down and fully submerges him into the water. 

He drowns with a smile.


	5. It Means The World

It had all started during the worse time of the year. It was getting colder, and Eddie specifically remembers reminding everyone to wear at LEAST, two layers to stay warm. But of course! No one listens to Eddie. 

Now here they all were, in the middle of the woods, half of the losers shivering from the cold, Richie in particular shaking so bad Eddie might sacrifice his own coat for him if he didn't know better. 

"What if it was a lie, seriously?" Ben asks Bill as they walked over the icey leaves and sticks. Each crunch of the frosted foliage making Eddie's anxiety's heighten. How far did they have to walk? "Trust me. I heard one of the guys c-confirm they were real." 

Each person spreads out, looking for different tree trunks until Eddie, was the one who unfortunately had to spot it first. His nose wrinkled looking down at the foggy plastic wrap, carelessly shoved into a little hole in the wood. "Uh, I found it." He mumbled, backing up and letting Mike be the one to first grab the porn. 

It was the start of the 90's, a new roaring decade. And yet still, the only access anyone had to porn was crappy magazines stuffed in tree trunks, in the middle of the woods. 

"Oh woah." Stan said from behind Mike as he unfolded the magazine, revealing a FULLY naked woman. 

Eddie avoided the magazines like the plague. He didn't know if it was because he didn't like women, the idea of touching other people's spank material, or the fact that lewd magazines brought back bad and fresh memories he hadn't gotten over yet. Almost instinctively he squeezed his thighs together, wincing at the invisible pain of ice. 

Beverley is the next person to step up, flipping to the next page and letting out a low whistle, "wow. Who would have thought." She mumbled tilting her head to the side to examine the women. Ben stands behind her, adverting his gaze with a feirce blush paining his cheeks. Partially from the cold but definitely from the embarrassment of his girlfriend being so upfront with looking at naked women. 

"I don't want to look. I mean, do they consent with me looking?" Ben questions as Bill scoots in to get a look as well, all of them huddling into a group. Beverley wraps her hands in his, and smiles at him kindly. "They poses and took these photos honey." She coo'd nuzzling his nose, "obviously they consent." It still takes a few more minutes of convincing before Ben finally takes a look. He lasts about 12 seconds before his is looking away, far too embarrassed to try again. Beverley comforts him, and tells him to do what ever makes him comfortable. 

Then, Richie was on the scene without a further notice, oogiling at the pages of women. "WOWZA, look at the rack on her!" 

"Beep beep Richie." Stan says flatly, very gingerly flipping to the next page. 

"Don't act like you have the high ground, you are also looking!" Richie fired back. 

"Why are you looking Rich? Aren't you gay?" Mike questioned, but it wasn't with malice, just genuine curiosity. 

"Hmm. Well why can't I also like girls?" Richie questions, reaching over Stan and flipping to the next section, this time there are three ladies. Wait? Can someone like both men and women?

Everyone pauses, like they were thinking it over, as if, could that even be possible? What would that be called? Then, "Oh. Okay." Beverley says easily, and they all move on with that new information. It's quick and accepted the moment Richie speaks about it. Eddie is surprised no one is making a fuss. But he supposes, no matter what they will always love Richie. 

Then, something he dreaded happens, "come look Eds, you're missing the action." Richie beckons, and Eddie feels stiff. He doesn't want to look, doesn't want to get near it. What if it burns him? Everyone is now staring at him, and he feels a rush of panic fill his body. 

He steps forward and allows his gaze to fall onto the scene. A woman, and a man. Very obviously, having sex. Nothing is shown, but the woman is sitting on top of the man, head fallen back, mouth agape. While he kisses her chest. 

"Why does her bangs look like that?" Eddie says the moment he notices her hair. It's cut uneven, and he can't seem to focus on anything else in the picture. Then his eyes fall onto the second page, two women kissing each other. He scrunches his nose when he sees a large wonky butterfly tattoo that isn't symmetrical. And then he notices the other woman is wearing nothing but heals. "Why is she wearing shoes in the bed? Doesn't she know classic hygiene?" 

He can hear Bill and Richie blantantly begin howling in laughter. "There is people having sex, and the thing you notice is their haircuts?" Stan questions eyeing Eddie. Beverley giggles, wrapping her arm around Eddie's shoulder, "and why do you got to pick on their fashion sense?" 

Richie just grins wide, getting Eddie's attention, "it's kinda hot when you make fun of naked women. Why is that?" 

"Because you are a deeply flawed person." Eddie tells Richie with a glare. 

Everything stayed like that for a while. The losers flipping through the magazine, in the middle of winter, making comments or blushing at the obscene scenes. 

All of that just for some porn? And what good did that cause? Because now. Richie is sniffling and has a temperature over one hundred. 

Eddie, is, for a lack of better words. Stressed. There's too much happening, to many conflicting instincts. The need to get away from sick people. And the need to take care of Richie. He remembered, when Ben had caught a cold a year ago, Eddie had put him in quarantine lest he get the rest of the losers sick that summer. 

But now, he is running up and down Richie's house, to find any sort of medicine it may have. Making the steps creak with every step. Of course it doesn't have anything but beer bottles laying around. 

He had only come by for another study session, when Richie answered the door, mucus dripping out of his head. 

His voice was raspy, when he said, very firmly, "sorry. Can't study today. Sick." Before closing the door on Eddie's face. He stood there, fore the better part of a minute, shocked on the other side, before forcing his way back into the house, using his shoulder for leverage. “Then I'll make it better. Go lay down." It took a lot of fighting, but now Richie was laying in bed, covered in, frankly, ugly green, sweat soaked blankets, waiting for Eddie's instructions. 

Peering into Richie's room again, he can see just how sickly he looks. Hair messy and unwashed, cheeks pale and nose bright red. He has dark circles around his eyes, and snot running down his nose. Normally that would make Eddie gag. And he does a little. But mostly it makes his heart swell with the need to make him better.

Richie looks at him, eyes droopy and a frown. Eddie hated seeing Richie frown. "Eds." Richie tried for the forth time that day. "Really. I just need to sweat it out. I'm sure I'll be fine." 

"What if it's not just a fever? What if it's the flu? What if it's hypothermia? Or strep?" Eddie babbles, clutching the door frame. 

"Even more of a reason for you to leave." Richie tried, voice sore and soft from all the coughing. Then Richie, he makes this noise. This ungodly noise. That's so pathetic, and weak and in pain. Like he might die any minute despite his promises.

There a tiny, Eddie shaped bomb that goes off in his gut. The tiny Eddie screaming so damn loud it shakes the insides of Eddie's ribs, demanding to be heard. And instantly he is set into motion. 

There are some basics that Eddie knows about fevers. 

•Give acetaminophen or ibuprofen as directed on the label.  
•Bathing or sponging in lukewarm water may bring the temperature down.   
•Have the person wear light clothing and use a light cover or sheet.  
•Have the person drink plenty of fluids to stay hydrated.  
•Call a doctor if the fever lasts longer than 3 days.

Eddie would start first, with the bathing. "Go take a shower." He demanded, helping Richie stand up from his bed. Peering down at the sheets, they are covered in a sheen of sweat, causing Eddie to cringe. Note: do Richie's laundry. 

"While you shower I'm going to make you soup." Eddie instructed softly, when Richie groaned at even the prospect of having to move around the house. "You get cranky when you're hungry." 

"No I don't." Richie lies. 

"Yes you do. I know you enough to call out your bluff. That's why I carry crackers on me all the time. Just Incase you get hungry and start bitching." 

Richie turned to Eddie, a sly smile on his lips, "don't you like it when I'm bitchy?" He wiggles his eyebrows, Eddie rolling his eyes in response. 

Eddie opens the shower curtain, itwas a annoying polkadot pattern, helping Richie get in. "Maybe you can take a bath. What if you faint?" He chimes in worried, trying to ignore his need to clean the tub first, eyeing the grout along the edges of the tile, while Richie removed his shirt. There was so many different scenarios that could happen, Richie sneezes, and slips on the soapy floor, then busts his head open on the bathtub. It could leave him disfigured or with a concussion. "I'm sure I can handle standing up for five minutes Eds." Richie pokes at his side, getting Eddie's mind out the clouds. Instantly, Eddie's brain moves to Richie's chest. His arms are lanky and pale, and his stomach is covered in freckles. He is lucky Richie is so covered in sweat and sickly, or he might do something he wouldn't be so proud of. 

His eyes fall onto the cigarette burns on the inside of Richie's arms. Faded, but still easy to spot, gnarly purple and green with yellowish tint as they scabbed over. His heart wretches so painfully he wants to cry, like someone was physically punching into his chest. 

"Yeah, but you need to shower for more then just five minutes. Look at how sweaty you are!Take a bath. Please?" Eddie asks nicely, lowering his voice into a sickly sweet octave. Slowly curling his pinky, and tugging gently at Richie's fingers. There is a quiet moment between them, with Richie gazing down at their intertwined hands, then looking back into Eddie's eyes, and all his strength dissipates. It always works. Richie sighs, nodding his head slowly, reaching down to turn on the water. "Okay I'm gonna get naked now-" Richie reminds, shooing Eddie so he can get undressed. 

Eddie closes the door behind him, ignoring the faint blush on his cheeks from the interaction, and from the idea of naked Richie. He shakes those thoughts from his mind, and sets his motor to go.

Bathing: check. 

He moves to Richie's room, stripping the bed of it's sheets, cringing at the dark puddle of sweat collected in the middle of them, taking his blankets, and pillowcases as well, which were covered in snot, bringing them downstairs. He puts each article of bedding into the washing machine, making sure not to touch any wet spots, and then moves on to the kitchen. 

Turning on the burner, he looks around the kitchen for some cans of soup, finding two hidden in the back of their pantry, one chicken noodle, one tomato. He reads the labels and throws away the tomato can, after noticing it's expired. He quickly disinfects the counter tops, and rinses out a pan. He pours the chicken noodle into a sauce pan, and let's it heat up, while rummaging through Richie's fridge. Beside the alcohol, and the twenty something condiments, there is actually some fresh vegetables in the back. Random broccoli, carrots, and asparagus. His nose scrunched up looking at them, remembering Richie telling him a while back, that asparagus made your pee smell funny.

He glanced at them one like time, then closes the fridge, he doesn't dare touch them. Not just because Richie might get in trouble. But because Eddie was pretty sure he was a horrendous cook. He never had to cook growing up. Richie did however, and Eddie didn't want Richie of all people to critique his cooking ability. Or worse, lie about it to spare Eddie's feelings. 

Once the soup was finished, Eddie poured it into a bowl, letting it cool. Moving on to make a cup of tea. Richie's mom, actually drank that stuff, so fortunately Eddie found a bag, and steeped it in some hot water. Dumping a fuck ton of sugar in it, because he knew Richie wouldn't drink it, if it wasn't crazy sweet. 

He brought the soup and tea up to Richie while he was bathing, knocking on the door gently to warn him, before serving him everything. He gently placed them by the side of the bathtub, dipping the tips of his fingers into the tub water to make sure it wasn’t too cold. 

Shielding his own eyes from view, while Richie covered himself, thanking Eddie. Eddie realized Richie no longer had the energy to fight him about taking care of him. 

Plenty of liquids: check.

He was quick with setting a glass of water next to Richie's bed, and ran down the stairs to check on the laundry. Few more minutes and it should be done— then the front door opens, and Eddie stills, like a dear caught in the headlights. The door slams shut, and he can hear the sound of keys being tossed onto the counter in the hall.

The hair on the back of his neck stands, and he feels his skin crawling when he hears footsteps leading to the kitchen. He clutches onto the table top of the kitchen counter, when a small bit of relief washes over him when he notices it's Richie's mother. She looks tired, throwing down her purse onto the couch, and then looks up, jumping a little when she in turn, notices Eddie. 

"What?" Is all she manages to say, and Eddie tries to flash his award winning, mom swooning smile. "Richie is sick. I'm just taking care of him." He rushes out, not as swooning.

Richie's mother pauses, looking to the empty soup can, and the laundry running. Eddie had already cleaned all the dishes, and made sure to not make a mess, so no one could complain. He quickly grabs the can, and throws it in the trash. 

"He's sick? Since when?" She finally gets herself to ask. Eddie's eyes washes over her, she is still in her work uniform, having worked extra night shift hours. So obviously she wouldn't have known, she was gone all night.

"This morning." Eddie confirms, and she makes a humming noise. 

Eddie thinks that's the end of the interaction, but instead she surprises him. "Do you need me to pick up some medicine?" 

And Eddie stares at her mouth agape. Not for long because he realizes that is rude, and finally gets his brain working again. "Um. Yes. Maybe some cough syrup, and some ibuprofen, or, acetaminophen." 

She nods, and actually moves to grab her purse. She looks up the clock, making a mental note of the time, waves at Eddie and leaves. 

While she was gone, Eddie shoves the laundry into the dryer, then takes it out once it's done. He couldn't help but worry that Richie's mother wasn't actually going to return, but doesn't let it slow him down. He gets Richie out of the bathtub before he became a living prune, began ordering him to just put on a simple T-shirt. Then, fresh from the dryer, draped a large warm blanket on top of him. It was like clock work at this point.

Light clothing and sheets: check.

He finished Richie's dishes, then waits downstairs for his mother to come back. It took about fifteen minutes, but she actually did, pick up the things Richie needed, hustling into the house with the plastic bags under her arms. Then she was making her way upstairs with Eddie, to check on Richie. 

Richie smiles brightly when he notices his mother when his door swings open, despite his blood drained face and droopy body, he brightens up— almost like he was so happy she cared. She gives Eddie the medicine, obviously trusting him with it more then herself, and sits down on the edge of the bed to give Richie a kiss on the head. 

Eddie thanks her, and she just shakes her head. "Don't thank me. I'm his mother. This is what we do. Or at least what we are supposed to do." She places her hand over his forehead, and sighs. "I'll make sure your father avoids your room tonight. You need rest." She promises. Richie just nods, and basks in the brief attention from her, before she gets up, and closes the door behind her, for them to be alone.

Sitting where Maggie was previously, Eddie gives Richie the Ibuprofen, and some cough syrup. "This will make you tired." Eddie warned, handing him the meds.

Richie rolls his eyes, sitting up and placing his glasses onto the desk next to the bed. "Yeah, like eating a whole bowl of nice warm soup didn't already put me in a sleepy mood, dickwad." 

"That's really all you got? God, who knew, you being sick makes you so lame." Eddie teases, receiving a clear and concise middle finger from the other boy. 

Richie swallows the pill down with the water Eddie already placed on his nightstand, making his face scrunch up from the bitter after taste. Eddie understood the feeling. 

Then, in that moment, he realizes love isn't just shown through the same thing for everyone. It can be shown through deeds done for the other. It's harder for others. Like Richie's mother. But for Eddie, he doesn't even need to think about it. He just does it, if it means making Richie happy and healthy. 

Maybe that's why they call it falling? Because it's sudden and you have no control over it. 

Though, Eddie is pretty sure he might be doing TOO much in that sense, when Richie stops him, after a few more hours of Eddie fixating over his health. He is in the middle of cleaning and disinfecting Richie's room when Richie grabs his attention by throwing a soda can at the back of his head.

"Eddie. I'm fine now. You've done enough." Richie tries, again, his voice soft and relaxed. It's the hundredth time that day but Eddie won't listen. 

"You're not fine Rich, you are sick. And I need to help you—" Eddie pinches the bridge of his nose, "I know what's best for you okay? I can take care of you, I can make you better—" then suddenly Eddie stops in his tracks, finally processing the words coming out of his mouth. Richie gives Eddie a look, but Eddie is already ahead of him. He has connected the dots. And he feels like he needs to vomit. 

Is Eddie, too overbearing? Or worse. Is Eddie his mother? Has he become her and will he abuse Richie the same way she does to him—

"Eddie you are over thinking again." Richie seems panicked, like he knows what's going through Eddie's brain, and desperately wants to stop that train of thought. Richie, quickly getting up from his bed, walking across the room, to try and pull Eddie out of it. 

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, oh my— I'M MY MOM." Eddie feels like the world is swirling around him, a storm tapping at the windows until the glass shatters and leaves him with— with Richie hugging him tight.

"You're not Eds you're not. Trust me. This is how people normally act when someone is sick, you know." Richie tries, but Eddie just shakes his head. 

"No, oh god I'm being too much. I'm, I'm forcing—"

"You're not forcing anyone anything. I'm willingly cooperating. Have you convinced me I'm sick of things I don't really have?" Richie questions, and Eddie is taken aback. 

"What? No." 

"Have you been locking me up in the room, and telling me what to do?"

"No." 

"Have you been taking care of me for a real sickness? Or a fake one, you made up so you could feel useful?" 

"You are actually sick. You have a fever Rich-" 

Richie grabs Eddie's face, both palms splayed over each cheek, "then that's the point. You aren't anything like your mom. You are just a caring person."

Eddie feels like the wind has been knocked out of his chest, and he can't help but stare at Richie. Watching the worry in his eyes, and the quiver in his lips, each hand so smooth and comforting on his cheeks. His eyes travel over the scars on Richie's arms, and he wants to be able to understand. To be able to relate so Richie wouldn't be alone. He wants to so desperately make it better. Eddie wants to kiss him. 

Eddie really wants to kiss him. 

He leans forward, and Richie looks surprised, but still leans in as well, before shoving his hand between their faces last second. "I— uh, Eds as much as I want— and trust me I want to, but, I'm kind of sick right now." He reminds, and Eddie backs up for a moment. Oh. Right. What was he thinking. 

They let the moment dissolve, before laying back into Richie's bed. He convinced Eddie to take a break from cleaning, and just relax. 

They sit side by side, Richie wrapped in his blankets, and Eddie sitting on top of them, their thighs pressed together. 

"You know. When we were younger." Eddie begins, and Richie just chuckles, moving to lay his head on Eddie's shoulder, "yeah?" 

"I was. I don't know. I guess I was always so sad. And, maybe that's why we bonded? We both had fucked up childhoods, and at least, even in all that terrible shit. We had each other. Obviously we had Stan and Bill as well. But with you? We shared that same hate for the world. Then we grew up." Eddie, slowly moves his hand, to card his fingers through Richie's now, freshly washed hair, 

"You act like we changed." Richie mumbles, burring his face into the crook of Eddie's neck. 

"Yeah, I don't think we are as angry with the world as before." Eddie says low, and Richie just laughs. "Speak for yourself, I'm still angry."

Eddie feels a smile tug at the edges of his lips, and he can't for the life of him, think of why he wanted to give this up. It was scary. Caring for someone so whole heartedly. And when it's supposed to be so wrong, it's hard to accept it. But it felt so right, and safe, and perfect, to be around Richie. 

"I don't think smoking weed is for me." Eddie offers, and Richie snorts. "You think?" He teases, moving to get a better look at Eddie. 

"I'll make sure to tell Bev the next time she hooks me up. 'Hey! You can cut my share a little short this month, no one will be bumming a smoke off me anymore." He fakes a low NewYorker mafia accent, raising an eyebrow and motioning with his hand, a invisible blunt between his fingers. 

Eddie shoves him, and sighs, trying his best to hide his smile. "That's not the point Rich. The point is that I want to do something rebellious, but I'm not sure, the things you and Bev do are the way to go." 

Richie finally lets Eddie off the hook, and slings his arm over his shoulder. "Then do something that YOU, want to do. Do something you've always wanted to do, something your mother never allowed you to." He suggests, and Eddie looks to him, seeing the sincerity in his expression. "Really? Should I?" Eddie whispers, and Richie leans forward, pressing a caste kiss on his forehead. "You have my full support Spaghetti." 

Eddie takes it to heart. 

So, that same week, on Thursday, Eddie signs up for the track team. Much to everyone's surprise. And on Friday, he makes the team. Surprising everyone tenfold. Everyone but Richie. He knew when Eddie put his mind to something, he could do it. Plus, the losers knew how fast his running was from past experiences. Through he can't seem to remember what the reason was that they were all running so much that one summer. 

His mother never liked him doing any type of sport, too many risks. Too many things that could happen. But he really had asthma, and it turns out, without that handicaps, he is the fastest runners on the team. 

Needless to say, everyone was absolutely supportive, and attended all of his practices. 

It was crazy good on his mental health too, being able to just run, and run. And it even got Ben to join the team. For the first few weeks, Eddie would run laps three times as many as Ben, passing him over and over. After 3 weeks? They would run along side each other. It was exhilarating, being able to rid his body of all that pent up energy. 

"Looking good Haystack!" Richie yelled from the bleachers, while Beverley whistled out, pumping her fist into the air, after Eddie finished his second mile, Ben, a mile and a half. Both were getting insanely in shape. And Beverley, obviously kept eyeing her boyfriend when he ran, just cheered him on with all the support she could muster from her body. 

And Eddie, secretly, would smile every time he caught Richie staring at him. 

"Pace yourself, remember." Eddie reminded Ben, as he passed him again, and Ben nodded, giving Eddie a high five. "You are a born runner! How did you know this is what you wanted to do?" He asked between gasps, as they both slowed down to a jog so they could speak. Eddie hands Ben a water bottle, who in turn gratefully accepts it. 

"I don't know. I don't think it was me who knew. It was my dad actually." Eddie look over the field, the track was one large circle, red painted pavement with white lines separating the racers. 

"When I run, I just think of him. How he would just smile at me when I ran around the house. He wanted to be able to run, but couldn't. So. I guess, I don't just do this for myself. But for him." Eddie realizes slowly, and Ben just grins. "Well then, he was a smart man." Eddie smiles back, "yeah. He was." 

Practice comes to a close, and Eddie runs up to Beverley, Richie, and Bill who all sit with towels and water bottles at the ready. 

"Mike and S-Stan are still doing Boy Scout duty after school. So they a-apologize for not being a-able to make it." Bill says, handing Ben a water bottle. 

"When did you and Bev get out of art club?" Ben asks, moving to press a kiss on Beverley's cheek, earning him a wet smack on the lips back. 

"Art club is on Wednesdays Ben, you should know this." She states, quickly wrapping her arms around his shoulders. 

Richie wraps a towel around Eddie's shoulders, jumping up to ruffle up his hair. "Nice running out there ol' sport!" Richie says, in a surprisingly convincing British accent. "You look like a toddler on stilts!" Richie teases, but Eddie notices the light touch of Richie's hand on his lower back, and the drift of his eyes over Eddie's shoulders. Eddie flips him off, laughing when Richie fakes offense, and then quickly jogs to his fannypack to grab his cooling pads. 

Bill starts asking Ben questions about different breathing techniques, while Richie goes on and on about how happy he is, that he is finally finished with tutoring. 

"Oh! Um, I have to go to the bathroom will quick. I'll be back." Beverley suddenly announces, and starts walking to the school bathrooms in a hurry, passing Eddie to get to the building. 

No one else seems to question it, moving on to continued their conversations, but Eddie, instinctively follows after her. 

"Bev! Hey, is there something wrong?" He tries to get her attention. She just keeps walking, only stopping when she gets to the front of the girls bathroom. Quickly she turns to look at him, very obviously embarrassed, cheeks bright red. She fiddled with the sleeves of her sweater, wearing down the strains at the end of it. 

"Uh. It's nothing. Just girl problems." She tries to be discreet, breaking her gaze but Eddie already understands. 

"Oh!" He says a little too awkwardly loud, but finds his cool quickly, "Okay. I've prepared for this." He says softly, looking down to reach into his fannypack, and looking around for a moment, before pulling out a few tampons, still in wrapping, then handing them to her gently. 

There is a suddenly long pause, where she just stares at him like he had just grown two heads. 

"What?" Eddie asks, put off by her sudden confusion. He zips his fannypack closed, and shoves his hands into his track short pockets.

"Why— why do you have tampons??" She almost squeaks out, and Eddie just stares back. 

"Uh, obviously for emergencies like these?" Eddie says like it's obvious, but Beverley just gapes at him. "What?" She questions, gripping the tampons in her hand like they were some type of prank. 

Eddie can't help but smile, "Because, they're for you. I don't use tampons obviously." He says softly, and she nods slowly, "I thought: What if one day you needed them? When we first met, you were buying some. And hiding them behind your back, like they were something bad." He can see her look away ashamed, but he just shakes his head, "I don't know much about girls but I do know that periods are natrual. I was worried that maybe one day you wouldn't be prepared. And I guess I was right." He gestures to the tampons in her hand. 

She too looked down at them, and then back up at Eddie with a calculated look.

"You carried around tampons in your fanny pack for literal, YEARS. Because you didn't want me to feel ashamed?" She asks, voice barely over a whisper. 

"Well yeah." Eddie answers honestly, "Nothing about that is a bad thing. It's not gross. And sure— if Richie or any of the other boys found out I literally carry tampons, then I wouldn't hear the end of it. But i don't know, I felt like it was worth it." 

"You risked being made fun of by the entire group, just because you didn't want me to feel ashamed?" She repeats, staring at her boots like they were suddenly interesting and Eddie corrects her.

"Or alone! You are the only girl in the group. And I thought at least someone should have your back. I didn't want you to be alo—" he stops when he notices that, Beverley isn’t looking at her boots, Beverley for some reason began crying. 

Did he do something wrong? 

"I- I'm sorry. Was I being insensitive? I didn't mean to hurt your feelings—" 

Beverley just laughed through the tears, reaching forward to hug Eddie tightly. 

"Of course not. You did nothing wrong. It's just, the men I've known through out my life have always made me ashamed of this. And you just— Thank you. For being compassionate, and worrying about me, even if you can't relate. Trying to make things better even when you can't relate, means the world to me." She lets it all spill out, and Eddie hugs her back. "Of course. Anything for you Bev."

Eddie watches her leave to the restroom so she can finish up her business. When she finishes, they walk back together and meet up with the rest of the group, Mike and Stan finally getting back from their club. 

And as everyone jokes around, walking together in a group to head to Bill's house one last time and smiled, Eddie's gaze moved over to Richie, wearing a jacket even though he hated wearing them. All just so he could cover his arms. 

Trying to make things better even when you can't relate, means the world.

Eddie took that to heart.


	6. Separation of the heart

If life is like drifting out at sea, then most days, the water is still, and forgiving. It will rock you, the waves will push and pull, against the shore, it will guide you along the currents, and float you along the open water.

The days Eddie can be a kid. Be with his friends, and be care free. 

But some days, there are storms. It's relentless, and knows no mercy, thrashing, and swirling, daring to drag you in, pull you down into the depths. 

Fear. Is it clean? Is it safe? What if, what if, what if. It's a fucking plague. No matter how much he knows the fears are irrational, they eat at him, telling him— what if? What if you get sick, what if you get hurt— it's a voice nagging him, always present, some days louder then the others. When it's quiet. That's when it's the loudest. Because Eddie must speak for it. 

Eddie-bear— 

He shuts his eyes tight, and doesn't let the lights pour in. Even when he knew she wasn't right, he still had this inclination to listen. To heed her warnings, to entrap himself in bubble wrap, and never face the world. Because it was hard, and scary, and sad. 

So sad. 

Eddie watches from the corner of Richie's bed, he feels like there is a battle happening in his brain, fighting to breach his chest and plow through his rib cage. Thousands of soldiers charging out of his lungs, into the sea of open promises and one never kept. He keeps his lips sealed however, as to not let the ocean waves come crashing out. He watches with a pained expression as Richie touches the multiple cigarette burns on his arms, and thighs. His fingers barely press in, just gliding along the tough patches of skin gently. Eddie knows they don't hurt anymore. Not physically at least. 

They are all finally faded, which is comforting to know, no new ones have been appearing on his skin. Still, Eddie can't help but notice the furrow of Richie's brows. 

There's a slight pauses before he lets out a tired sigh. "I hate the marks." He admits. And Eddie already knew that. Still, he moves closer and rests his head on Richie's shoulder. For once Eddie can't find any word, nothing to explain how things will turn out. He honestly doesn't know. He doesn't know a lot of things. He knows, he cares about Richie though, "It's okay." 

Trying to make things better, even when you can't relate. Means the world.

Slowly, Eddie invades Richie's space, rubbing his hands up his arms, Richie's breath catches in his throat every time Eddie passes over a scar. "I'm sorry." Eddie offers, and Richie laughs softly, "sorry? It's not your fault Eds—" 

"I know. But I can still feel sorry." And it's true, there's this deep pitted feeling of dread, not pity, but sadness, that Eddie is powerless to take the pain away, to give Richie relief when all Eddie wants is for Richie to not feel this way. His heart dares to jump from his chest, and into the cradle of Richie's hands. But it's no longer scary. 

"Don't feel sorry for me. I don't want that." Richie lays back, his voice is small, but sure of itself. When he finally gets his back onto the bed, he hits his head on the wall behind him in the process. He doesn't say anything about it, but Eddie stifles a laugh. 

"I'm just unfortunate enough to have this body thats all." Richie tries to play it off as a joke; but it doesn't land. 

"Stop hating on your body." Eddie pries, and Richie shakes his head, a self-effacing smile playing sad on his lips. "What is there to like?" 

Eddie stares, sad and confused. He doesn't know how to reply, but it doesn't stop him from running his mouth, "you're insanely tall first off, which is incredibly unfair. You have really nice arms, and—" 

"Well you have nice legs." Richie blurts, and Eddie can feel a dusting of pink over his cheeks. "Uh. Because, you do track." Richie hurries out at the end, like he was stumbling over a verbal rock pile. 

"Rich. Common, you aren't ugly or anything and you're a good person too." Eddie redirects the conversation. 

Richie laughs, and it makes Eddie's heart sink. He wasn't joking. But the way Richie give him a look of disbelief, it makes him ache. He so badly, so deeply in his bones, he wants to take the pain away. Wants to show Richie how much he is worth, and prove it over and over. 

Eddie takes a leap, just for a moment, resting his palm on Richie's cheek, pushing the coke bottle glasses up the bridge of his nose for him. He presses in, and kisses the side of his mouth, it's feathery light, but Richie still gasps. As if burned by the touch. "What are you doing?" He asks, voice barely over a whisper, like he wasn't allowing himself to dare to hope. 

"I don't know." Eddie answers honestly. 

There is a few, quick seconds that pass, but they feel like years, Richie looking into Eddie's eyes, trying to read his mind. 

Richie moves forward and kisses him. Full on the lips, and forceful, but it's soft. Tender, and takes Eddie's breath away. He kisses back with intent, only pulling away for a moment, to catch the look in Richie's eyes. "You're not that ugly." Eddie reminds, and he can feel Richie's goofy grin against his lips. "So you've said." He mumbles back, and they kiss, like two puzzle pieces that were never even meant to be separated. Like a single puzzle piece, cut in half, and finally glued back together. Becoming whole once again. Butterflies flutter in his gut. 

They do that for a while, kiss and kiss and kiss, like they might die if they don't, not stopping until their lungs burn from the lack of oxygen. The feeling of absolute surrender. To the storm brewing inside. Thrashing pterodactyls now scream in his stomach, demanding to be felt. All of Eddie’s feelings at once, demanding to be felt. And oh does he give in. Just for once.

It was all at once a Monopoly of the senses. Eddie had held back for so long, and in retrospect, so had Richie. Always tempted, but too afraid that, at some point. They’d have to admit, to feeling this way. 

Richie already accepted who he was.

Now it was Eddie’s turn. 

They pull apart, only after it becomes darker outside. Their cheeks flushed red, embarrassment and feelings rising to the surface, boiling away any excuses they could come up with. They had never kissed like that before. So slow, and sensual. It was romantic. And undeniably. Gay. 

How do accept something about yourself, when you already knew it to be true? 

It isn’t the matter of accepting that he was gay. But learning to be okay with that. 

And well. Eddie was. 

His lips broke out into a brilliant smile, one he could see reflected on Richie’s face. They fell back into each other and laughed, gripping each other, and kissing one another through the bountiful giggling. 

Being young, in and of it self. Will always be a challenge, every person will face. At some point in your life, you will be naïve, curious, frightened and frustrated with each new thing you come across. But for them, one thing, they will never have to figure out, because they are lucky enough. 

Is what, love really feels like. 

Beverley. Ben. Bill. Stan. Mike. 

Richie. Eddie. 

There are so many people, who get in the way, and skew the idea of love. But the way Richie makes Eddie’s chest fill with admiration, and joy. 

The way, he leaves his smell on Eddie’s pillows, and that it lingers and leaves him soft. He feels like his emotions have been invaded and it’s unfair. Why can’t Eddie choose how he feel about this. Choose to hate the smell, rather then find comfort. 

Because it was never his choice in the first place. 

Richie shouldn’t be allowed to make Eddie feel better about myself. But he does. Make’s Eddie think he might not be all that bad. Makes him feel like he is the only person on this earth that matters. 

He shouldn’t be both annoying and enduring. 

“Hey Rich.” Eddie whispers, pressing himself into the warm embrace of Richie’s long outstretched arms. “Yes?” He answers, soft. 

“Why did you say you were okay with me being straight?” He doesn’t know why it was bothering him. That Richie had so easily accepted that Eddie was something he obviously wasn’t. Maybe deep down he wanted Richie to call him out. To force Eddie to come out. Make it easier for him. 

"Because.” Richie started, slowly, still trying to figure out the answer himself, “I guess, it was because, that meant I would have enough time, to prepare myself.” 

“For what?” Eddie peered, looking past the large lenses of Richie’s glasses, to watch his expression, “to watch you fall in love with someone else.” He mumbled, looking up to the ceiling and holding on tighter, “and be your best man at your wedding of course, make a cheesy speech that would make everyone laugh but you.” He sighed softly, “and pretend like it wouldn’t break my heart." 

Eddie fell silent for a moment. Thinking of what it might feel like if Richie married someone. Anyone, who wasn’t him. It left a bitter taste in his mouth. 

“Why me? Why did you fall in love with me of all people? Not Ben? Or Bill, or Stan or Mike? Why me? What's so special about me?” Eddie tried to wrap his head around it, understand how he deserved Richie’s love.

"Honestly? I don't know.” Well at least he’s honest, “It's just you Eds.” He empathized his point by flailing his hands around. Which in actuality did nothing to help his point. “It's always been you. Everything about you. How you're so small yet so fierce and brave. How neurotic you are but also so kind and loving. From the way you can out curse me on a regular day, to the way you'll hold my hand if I'm sad. I love everyone else. Obviously. But not in the way that I love you." 

Richie made sure, before the next words came out of his mouth, he made eye contact with Eddie, and held it. Upfront, and unafraid. 

“Because fuck, do I love you Eds.” 

And he said Eddie was the brave one. 

Eddie sucked in a breath, allowing. The words to process. A small, tiny voice creeped into the back of his head. Dirty. Dirty. Dirty. 

But that voice didn’t matter anymore. Not when a new one emerged, louder, and scarier. 

Do you deserve it? 

“I'm sorry you had to fall in love with someone like me. Someone who was too scared to return it.” And he was telling the truth. Richie had already made it clear how he felt for Eddie. Back when they were younger. And all Eddie has done was string him along. Always changing his mind. And Richie was always so patient. 

Richie scoffed,"HAD, to fall in love? Bold of you to assume I didn't choose with every fiber of my being to love you to my fullest compassity." 

Eddie is taken a back, for a moment. Not understanding what he means. Isn’t that was falling in love was? Being unable to control it?

“I love you, so fucking much Eddie and I need you to understand—“ Richie says all in one breath. And Eddie can't help but just stare.

"I never fell in love with you Eds. There was no falling involved. I was in, from the get go. I never fell. I walked right into it, with my eyes wide open, carefully making every step along the way, until I was running full speed. Because being in love with you is the greatest feeling in the world. And I was going to dive in head first, no matter the result.”

How do you prove to someone you love them so much more then ever before, when they already know you love them. 

“I love you too.” The words come tumbling out of Eddie’s mouth easily. Too easily. Like they were always meant to leave his lips. 

But at the same time, it was like the weight of the world fell from his shoulders and crumbled into his lap. Limp and tired. Maybe because had always loved Richie. It wasn’t the matter of accepting it.  
But learning to be okay with it. 

What he wasn’t ready for, was for the tears. Richie, was suddenly crying, tears screaming down his cheeks, “don’t.” He choked out, shaking his head, “don’t say that, unless you mean it. I can’t handle that. I won’t be able to handle that.” Richie begged, voice broken and scared. And Eddie frantically shook his head, wanting to ease the fear. 

“No, no Richie please. I promise. I mean it. I do, I mean it.” Eddie promised, pressing his forehead against Richie’s, speaking to him like he has millions of times before. No words needed. Just trust. They stare at each other, for a while, one set of eyes misty, and one expressing dearly for the other. Richie wipes away his tears, one at a time, and nods. He trusts Eddie to not lie.

He pushes forward, kissing Richie as he returns it with just as much passion. 

“You’re so cute.” Eddie whispers, between each long press of the lips. Laughing joyously, unable to contain it anymore. He kisses Richie’s nose, “such a cute nose.” Then his forehead, then each cheek. Then his ears, and neck, and lips. Savoring each peck. “Cute, cute, cute.” 

Richie laughs. “That’s my line.” 

“Well. Maybe it also applies to you?” Eddie suggests, and Richie rolls his eyes. 

“Not to mention, it’s not even true. I look fucking homeless. Like someone smushed a trolls doll into Chewbacca, and gave them heroin.”

“No you don’t.” Eddie argued. 

“I look like fucking Velma on 3 pounds of gasoline. Or better yet, the disgruntled loony toons version of Annie Potts.” 

“Rich—“ 

“Imagine Cyndi Lauper had a trailer park crash into her face, as someone rubbed mud into her hair. And you got me.” 

“Richie, shut up.” Eddie warned, gripping his forearms. “You’re not ugly.”

"Yeah maybe I'm not hideous, but still..." he trails off, eyes washing over his arms. Eddie sits up, and crawls over top of Richie, sitting himself partially in his lap, "not all marks are bad." He mumbles, watching the way Richie's brows twitch when Eddie gets close to him, or how his lips curl instinctively upwards when Eddie speaks. It makes his heart feel warm. 

"How is that?"

Eddie leans forward, hesitant, but brave, pressing a much more gentle kiss along Richie’s jaw, moving slow, testing the waters. So far Richie doesn’t pull away, so he drags his lips down the skin of his neck, placing his mouth over the indent of his neck and shoulder. He kisses him there, and Richie moves his head back, giving Eddie more room to work. This encourages him more. 

He opens his mouth along the skin, and the way Richie hisses, excites him. He sucks, softly, then slightly harder with each passing second, until Richie buried his fingers into Eddie’s hips, and hair. 

His breathing was shaky when Eddie latched onto another part of his neck, littering him with more and more of those red marks.  
“Some are good." Eddie mumbles against his jaw, and Richie nods. For once finally speechless.  
_______________________

Richie proudly wore his hickeys to school. Getting hooted and cheered at by many passer buyers. But most of them just thought Richie had hooked up with some girl. Little did they know. 

Of course, during lunch, many of the losers had already figured out who actually marked up Richie like a chart. Still it was fun, watching each person tease Richie, and him just smile back, like a big doofus. And it wasn’t because he had hickeys from Eddie. But that Eddie, did it, because he loved him. Eddie loves him, and that seemed to make Richie bright up, and with him, the world around him. 

His happiness, cause the entire group to be happy as well. It was contagious. Richie always had that effect. 

He pressed his hand into Eddie’s, and Eddie holds his, under the lunch room table. They smile, at each other. Because for once everything made sense. Beverley squeals with excitement, and Ben shows just as much support. 

Obviously Stan, looks on unamused. “Finally. It’s over. The yearning can be done with. I swear both of you were taking years off my life with your bullshit tragic romance.” 

Bill is happy for both of them. So genuinely happy because of course he is. All he cares about, from the bottom of his heart, is for his friends to be free, and happy. 

Mike, however, makes Bill’s reaction seem like nothing, giving both Eddie and Richie the tightest bear hugs, littered with words of endearment, and support.

It was overwhelming at first. But when Eddie would turn to Richie and then notice how much it made him feel safe, and accepted. Nothing mattered anymore. Nothing but that. 

In honesty. Out in this tiredness sea. 

Eddie is adrift in life. Yet, Richie anchors his heart with his love. Richie sustains him as surely as the very air he breathes. Maybe, or maybe not, does his very existence depends upon Richie’s. Probably not. But it sure felt like it. Eddie was born for him, Richie. Of that at least, he is sure.  
_________________________

Eddie still thinks about Richie, ever moment he is awake. But no one can blame him. Who wouldn’t think about their boyfriend every chance they got? 

Richie, tall. Lanky. Perfect in every way. Actually funny, but of course Eddie would never tell him that. And so damn smart. 

He and Bill are currently in the middle of doing a class project together, on Bill's bedroom floor. Papers sprawled out over the carpet, binders and text books scattered about, but Eddie’s head is too occupied with thoughts of when him and Richie will get the chance to be alone again, and make out. 

Bill stutters about each different section of the project, showing Eddie his progress, and Eddie half listens. He’s too lost in his day dream. Bill reminds Eddie of the things he needs to finish writing up, but they are both snapped out of their conversation when Bill’s mother knocks on the door. They both look up, as she presses in, a tight smile on her face. And then it was so sudden. So earth shattering what left her mouth— "We bought the house." She announced, as if it was a good thing. Like it was worthy of speaking aloud. Eddie quickly looks to Bill, fear creeping up the spine of his body. 

Bill seems just as shocked, if not more. And that made Eddie even more scared. To have Bill taken away from Eddie, taken away from the losers. Bill’s mother quickly realizes the news she just sprung on the two boys and her smile turned into a frown. “Oh. Uh. I’ll give you two a moment.” She shut the door. 

Eddie was quick to pounce, slinging verbal bombshells onto Bill in a frenzy. Bill stayed quiet, like he was thinking. What does this mean? Does this mean the losers club was no more? Did this mean they would never see Bill again? No more meeting up at his house, no more hugs from big Bill, no more inspiring speeches and unrelenting love. 

Needless to say it ended it tears. A lot of tears. Because they both realized. This wasn’t something they could fight out of. 

Eddie balled his eyes out into Bill’s shirt, body contracting with each wail. And of course there will be more tears, when everyone else has to find out. So, after Eddie collected himself, Bill made a announcement, for a emergency losers club meeting.


	7. The Lucky Seven

There's this weight. That comes with not being able to make the choices in your life. Like, this dread, that comes with not having complete control. It's scary, for things to change. For people to leave. For people to change, and grow. For them to die. 

And it's even worse, when you have no control. 

But Eddie supposes he has never been in control in his life has he? Others always made the choices for him, and it's suffocating with the weight. That weight. It presses and presses and presses.

It sits on his chest and takes the air out of his lungs, suffocating him. Yet still has the audacity to demand him to breath. 

"Okay mommy. I won't be gone for too long." Eddie tries again, gripping the handle to his front door, craning his neck so he can face the living room even though he wants to leave as soon as possible. The tv is obnoxiously fuzzy and static as 'the price is right' plays over the screen. 

"You spend too much time out, you need to spend a weekend with me for once." She demands again, and Eddie can feel Ben's caring grip on his other hand. He came all this way just to make sure Eddie gets to Bill's house without any problems. 

Eddie sighs, letting go of the doorknob momentarily just to comb a hand through his hair. His muscles actively fight him to abort. Leave. "Mom. Please. This is our last weekend with Bill." And last week with Beverley. Which he doesn't mention, because Ben is staring out into the clouds like he's lost the will to live. The air is leaking it's way inside from the cracked door, and Eddie realizes each moment wasted trying to explain to his mother the importance of being with his friends today is a moment wasted that he could spend with them.

Everything is moving too quickly, and it's like the world is spinning off it's axis. Everyone knew Bill's parents were looking. But no one thought it would amount to anything. Yet they actually found a house, just outside of Vermont, and that news? It was devastating. 

Eddie was the first to find out, of course, but it was even harder watching how the others reacted.

"I-I-I'm Sorry." Bill says for what feels like the hundredth time, tears threatening to spill from the sides of his eyes. He so desperately wants to hold everyone together, keep them from breaking. He doesn't want to be the reason they are all hurting. He acts like he had any choice in the matter, like he could have changed the outcome. 

At the end of the day they are all still just some kids. A group of losers who found an identity with each other. Now it felt like it was being stripped away from them. 

Beverley is already crying, pressing her face into Mike's shoulder as he tries not to hyperventilate. Mike grips the ends of her shirt, eyes shut tight, breathing so hard you can see it in his chest. It's dark, and gloomy in the room. Stan keeps pacing around, fiddling with his hands, not knowing what to do for once and Ben stares up at the ceiling, hems trembling, trying to persuade the tears not to fall. Eddie watches as Richie slams his head into Bill's pillow, letting out a stream of curses with each 'thud'. Richie has already succumbed to the tears, they cascade down his cheeks like leaky faucets. Eddie worries he might dehydrate. 

"It's not your fault." Beverley reminds, waving at her eyes to quell the sting of tears. And Eddie might break at any minutes. His ears are ringing. 

"When?" Richie asks, and everyone turns to him, then turn to Bill expectantly, everyone always looks to Bill, always. He was their rock, their foundation, everything that made the Losers the Losers. And watching his face slump, fall into a frown, and he mumbled out "two weeks." Every single one of their hearts broke. Eddie's ears ring even louder, and persistent. 

Richie was the first to break. 

"Please fucking tell me you're joking Bill. PLEAse." Richie retches out, voice going raw as he heaves his heavy cries from his chest, recking his soul into each and every one of them. Beverley begins shaking, taking labored breaths with each sob. 

"This has to be a fucking joke. This isn't— NO." Richie is hyperventilating, and Eddie wants to hold him. So desperately wants to walk across the room and protect him, but he can't seem to move, his legs glued to the ground. The weight of their cries cementing him into the floorboards. 

"This— no no no, no." Richie begs, like if he tried hard enough, pleaded desperately enough, everything would go back to how it was supposed to be. The seven of them. Together, never pulled apart. 

Surprisingly, Stan begins throwing things. There's a soft, 'tnk' against the side of the wall. It's just pens at first, then pillows, and other objects he can grab, notebooks, calculators, coins. They fly across the room in no real direction. it scares Eddie slightly, he's never seen Stan be so upfront and frustrated. But he heaved a sorry sigh, "This isn't fair. This isn't fucking fair. Bill you can't leave us." Stan demands, gripping the pillows in his hands so tightly, if they were made of glass they would have shattered in his palms. 

Eddie's ears ring, so loud and deafening. It's like the ocean tides are crashing into his skull, eroding the bone, breaking his body. 

Mike, desperately aching inside, sits on the ground, standing must have been too much a task, he lay near Bill's feet, curling up into a tight knot and sobbing whole heartedly. The ringing in Eddie's ears become screeching. It's loud and drowns out all his thoughts. 

Stan's broken gasps send Ben and Beverley spiraling with him. The room is getting hotter. There is too much despair, and Eddie feels like he might pass out. He watches, every single one of them cry, release that pain. And he stands there. A defect. He can't seem to cry. Nothing feels real— 

Bill, of course, stays as strong as possible for all of them, keeping his head held high, he groups them up into a hug, and Eddie doesn't cry. He doesn't because he still hasn't processed what this means. Or at least he hopes that's the case. All that there is, is ringing, and ringing. He can't help, but feel bad, for not crying. Maybe he is a bad freind, or a bad person. Maybe it's because he doesn't feel. Or that he's broken. 

And to think that was a bad day? Oh boy. 

Not even a week later, Beverley's aunt, after a few years of court dates, and tiresome fighting, won custody of her, and was planning on moving her out to New Brunswick, the complete opposite direction in the next few days. 

Which would have been okay if it wasn’t so out of the blue, to learn, because no one even knew, not even Beverley, that there was a custody battle taking place on her behalf. She was so angry, and furious about it, pacing back and forth in the club house, flailing her arms and yelling, as the boys all sat in a row and listened quietly. But truly they were all trying to process. With Bill, at least they all had said their goodbyes within due time. But now everyone had to rush to bid Beverley goodbye. 

Ben and Richie, were definitely the ones to take the news the hardest. Eddie's ears are still ringing. They never stopped. He can't cry. He still hasn't cried about Bill leaving all week, and with the news about Beverley? His eyes are still dry. He doesn't understand why. Is he drained of emotion? Is he broken somehow? Why won't he just cry? 

"What?" Richie stares at Beverley as she shakes. Everyone is happy she doesn't have to be with her father anymore. That can't be avoided. There is, good that comes from this. But they hate that for her to be safe, she must leave them as well. 

Richie, like Richie does, cries, unabashedly, holding Beverley in his arms with Ben, them both ruined completely. Losing a best friend, a lover, a sister. Stan didn't speak for the rest of the week, and Mike cried, for DAYS, on end, tears constantly rolling from his eyes, until he was so empty of any liquids, Eddie fused over him maybe needing some kind of IV. Bill once again, gave a speech, and pulled them all together, making them promise, from the bottom of their hearts, they will, and always will be. 

Losers. 

Ben grips Eddie's hand a little tighter, reminding him he isn't alone. Not yet. His ears still ring, but Ben stands firm next to him and it gives Eddie the courage he needs. "Sorry mom, but I have to go-" 

"But Eddie-bear!!" But she is interrupted by the front door slapping shut, and they are already on their bikes, peddling away to the only real people who felt like home.   
______________________

Ben and Richie hug each other in the hallway, both misty eyed, and try to pretend they weren't crying. Eddie sits in Bill's room, giving them their private moment, while everyone waited for Beverley to arrive. 

Eddie still hasn't cried. Not once. Even as each dreadful day moves forward, closer and closer to the losers breaking up. He hasn't been able to muster up a tear. He just feels numb. Confused. Like it's all just a day dream. And it will be over soon. He wish there was some, ANY emotion he could muster, something that could capsized him and throw him out to sea. 

They spend that night, how they should every night. Together, laughing, and playing, throwing paper balls at each other, and eating popcorn while cuddled up with one another. Stan is squished in the center, Eddie and Richie on either side of him, holding each other's hands above his head, making him laugh at them. Beverley behind Richie, with Ben behind her, and Bill behind Eddie, with Mike behind him. It's one big sandwich of happy teenagers, pretending like the world wasn't falling apart all around them. They let the fire roar on, but ignore the heat, even just for a few more seconds of clear breathing. Even just for a few more seconds of being okay. 

After that, everything seems to move so much faster, that Eddie can't keep up. He stays glued to Richie's side, holding him as he cries for the 8th time that week, when Bill packs up the last of his things, just some art supplies and rouge t-shirt scattered about. Everyone helped carry them to the moving trucks, solemn faces, pacing down the stairs, and placing each box inside as slowly as possible, stalling for time. 

Bill gives one more sad, but triumphant declaration, after the last box is packed away. He's standing on the open back of the truck as everyone else gathers around. "F-F-first off.. remember, ALL, of y-you to call me? S-second. I don't want any promises anymore. We've made plenty of those in our l-lifetime already. And I expect all of you to keep your word. No, all I want now. Is for you all to k-know—" his face contorts, pain plaguing his features as his hands tremble, but he hides it the best he can. 

"I just, hope you all know. That I love you. I so truly love all of you so deeply I can't even begin to imagine that I'd find the words to express this vast emotion I feel for every single one of you—" Bill says, easy without any mess ups, "GAY." Richie says half heartedly, causing Bill to crack a small smile. 

"Just know. No matter how far we are from each other, there is no force strong enough to knock us down. We will, have each other. Forever. I guarantee that. The momentousness of this... well it's terrifying. A-and trust me I'm just as scared as all of you. But I know. No matter what i fear, no after how new and scary this is. We have survived worse. Because we were together. And together we are strong." Bill's fingers tremble and he jumps down to hug everyone, allowing each of them to sob into his chest. 

Eddie's ears, still ring. But its quieter now. He can almost ignore it. 

Thump. Thump. Thump. His heart hammers into his chest. 

Bill moves away. 

Mike and Ben both cry whenever they pass Bill’s old house on their bikes. Richie can’t even bring himself to ride down that street, taking the back roads just to avoid it. Beverley holds Stan’s hand to calm him down every time they see a pretty piece of artwork, that they know Bill would be in love with. Eddie sits in his bathtub, legs pulled right to his chest, letting the water hit his back, simulating tears, he wish he could shed. 

Thump. Thump. Thump. Eddie's positive his ribs are going to break, his heart is a violent beast, ready to run free. 

Then it’s Beverley’s turn. 

Like two quick punches in succession to the gut. She has a lot less things to pack, Eddie finds out, really her wrinkly possessions are the few things in her bedroom. The walls now strip bare. They shove her clothes and other things into the back of her Aunt's car. It's light blue, with tacky wooden paneling on the sides. Ben says he likes it, but everyone knows he's lying. 

Her aunt gives them one last day to be together, watching with sad eyes at the sight of the group of friends about to be uprooted. They all go to the lake for the rest of the day, pretending like Bill's absence during this past week wasn't a glaring wound to their fun. 

Stan splashes water onto Eddie’s face, causing him to gag and splash back. “You KNOW, there is at least ten different types of harmful bacteria in this water? Swallowing it is like a death sentence—“ Eddie starts listing the dangers of the water, ignoring the voice in the back of his head telling him he is being overbearing, over reacting, ‘you’ve been in this lake hundreds of times and never have gotten sick’. 

“ Crypto, Giardia, Shigella, norovirus, E. coli—“ Stan sighs, grabbing Eddie by the shoulders and dunking him into the lake water. “Calm down you maniac. You’re not going to get cancer.” Stan teases, and Eddie spits out the lake water the best he can. “and how do YOU know that??” 

While still arguing with Stan, in the corner of Eddie's eye he can see Richie holding Beverley so tight she has to gasp for air when he lets go of her, letting her get a towel to dry off her hair. He laughs flicking her off, and she sticks her tongue out at him, a fond smile on her lips. 

The sun is high in the sky, it's a bright beautiful day, yet it feels just as depressing as all the previous. Eddie goes back to focus on playing around, letting Mike pick him up and throw him over his shoulder. Or laughing when Richie would creep through the water and pop up to land a surprise kiss on his lips. Over time though, Bev starts taking a different person aside, beckoning them to leave the water, to have a talk with each one of them. Eddie watched as Mike and Ben take their turns, and then Stan. Noticing each come back to the water with sad eyes and frowns. Ben was hysterical, crying over himself like someone had died. Stan, kept looking up at the sky, trying to keep the tears from falling. Mike wouldn't stop hiccuping. Eddie dreads his turn, he knows it's coming up, but luckily Richie goes before him, waddling out of the water, dripping all over the ground and onto the shore where he can sit next to her on the rocks and listen to what she has to say. 

They light a cigarette, sharing it like they always do. It makes Eddie cringe, he hates the way Richie tastes after he's smoked. But he can't complain. Small things, like that were how those two bonded. They are, in simple terms, soulmates. Platonically. But then again, so are all the losers. Eddie feels his heart ache, his mind slowly drifting back to Bill, missing his stutter, or witty remarks. His strong presence and undeniable kindness. 

Then, after Richie started screaming into the trees, yelling at the universe how unfair life was. Eddie knew it was his turn. He didn't even wait for Beverley to wave him over, just trotted out of the water, and plopped himself right next to her. 

This, was the first of many, "goodbye" speeches Eddie would have to endure that summer. His belly twisted into knots, and those knots twisted even tighter, making his body double over in pain. It was almost physical the amount of anguish it caused him watching his friends leave, one after the other. 

But not once could he cry. His body was too in shock. Unable to produce any reaction of confusing dread, a tornado torturing his insides. 

Ben, is the next to move away. Not even a month later. Stan had rushed into Richie’s room, during a particularly heated make out session with Eddie. They split apart, blushing, but Stan didn’t seem to care. His eyes were filled with fear, his chest was rising and falling rapidly like he had ran as soon as he found out. Ben’s mother got a promotion somewhere in NewYork. And when everyone gathered to say their goodbyes. He promises to call, to write, to tell them all his adventures up in the big city. Just like Bill and Bev had. Even though neither of them have kept that promise. His goodbye is similar to Beverley's. A solemn, "I'll miss you." And a hundred "I love you"s all gathered into one, depressing farewell. 

He too, doesn't write, doesn't call. Doesn't even let anyone know if he is doing well. Stan, Mike, Eddie and Richie sit next to their phones everyday; waiting. The only phone calls they get are from each other. The only mail that arrives, is for the adults of the house. The only news they get about the others, is rumors passed around the town. 

Monday afternoon, they are all gathered at Stan's house when they get the news. "We are moving." Stan's father announces, and it's like déjà vu for Eddie. They sit at the dinning room table, helping Stan put together a puzzle, which Richie had complained about at first. Eddie watches Richie carefully in particular. But even he is too tired and broken to do much but cry. 

It's all, so fast. Everyone is leaving, Eddie can't seem to wrap his head around it. Why now? Why this summer in particular? Richie, that night made Stan promise from the bottom of his heart, he will write or call him right away. "Please." Richie wretches out, his voice absolutely wrecked at this point, "Don't.. don't you dare fucking forget me Stan.. Stan the man. You— you're my best buddy. You can't do that to me. Don't do that to me, I can't handle another heart break. Don't forget me. Please." His tone is on the borderline of begging. Stan and Richie hold each other like they have many nights before, comforting each other with promises and Eddie's ears, ring at a frequency that is borderline dangerous. He feels numb inside. 

Mike, helps ease Eddie during these times. He alone doesn't know how to care for Richie. Its almost instantly that Richie falls apart, crumpled up onto the ground as Stan's moving truck finally drives away in the distance. He lays on the side walk like a heaping pile of bones. They have to lift Richie off the pavement, to keep him from laying out on the road to wait for a car to eventually run him over. 

For a few weeks after Stan left. Richie doesn't seem to have much fight left in him. He either stays at Mike's or Eddie's. Avoiding home. He doesn't run his mouth as much. He doesn't make as many jokes. It pains Eddie to see him this way. And of course. Stan never called. That. That really hurt Richie. He’d wait by his phone during the day, check his mailbox every morning and evening. But say it didn’t bother him. It obviously did. Richie’s terrified of being forgotten. 

Eddie tries to stay strong, for Richie. But even he stares at the ceiling, wondering why his friends haven't contacted him. Did they really forget? Was it all a lie? Was Eddie not truly that impotent to their lives?

Richie cries into Eddie's chest, for a few nights in a row, letting out broken, shaky sobs about being left behind, abandoned, forgotten. It seems that Richie cries enough for the both of them. It hurts though, watching the person you love feel so much pain. A pain you can't ease, or fix. Eddie just has to sit by, and watch Richie suffer. Neither of them get to enjoy their relationship. For the past few months, they haven't even been able to think about their love life, when everything they ever knew had been pulled out from under their feet. 

Eddie leans forward, and kissed Richie on the forehead, coo'ing him to relax. Maybe, they can just stop thinking, just for a moment. Just worry about each other and the way they each taste. Bask in the warmth of each other's arms. He kissed his nose, then cheek, then chin. And Richie seems to quiet down. Eddie wants to tell him how he makes him feel. Like he is brave. And smart; and beautiful, and finally in control. Eddie captures Richie's lips, in a soft, tender kiss, and Richie seems to melt, allowing all his pent up frustrations and emotions flow into Eddie. They kiss for a while, a silent promise that, even with everyone else gone, they still have each other. No matter what. 

Not matter what. 

Well. That is until. 

"We are moving— I..." Maggie begins, gripping her purse in her hands. Mike, Eddie and Richie sit in Richie's living room watching re-runs of The Brady Bunch. Mike seems to be the first to react, quickly moving to shut off the tv so she can speak. "I'm leaving your dad. And I'm taking you with me." She declares, and Richie stares at her in shock.

"Mom you're joking right?" Richie begins, but she gives him a look like it was obvious. There is a silence that’s deafening in response. 

Eddie intertwines his hand into Richie's, trying to clam his breathing, he can tell when Richie is about to have a break down at this point. 

"Richie... honey." She gives him a sad look, but Eddie can tell Richie understands. His father doesn't know about this plan. "We have to leave Derry. I've saved up enough money. I just need a few more weeks of work, and we can leave." She says, watching Richie press into Eddie's side. Eddie can feel it, the conflicted feeling bubbling up inside of Richie. His want to stay, to be with Eddie and Mike. To not leave and abandon them like everyone else. To be near Eddie and kiss him goodnight every night. But at the same time. To leave Derry? Finally? To get away from his father and have a relationship with his mother like he always wanted. With all the other losers gone, nothing much keeps him attached to this town. 

What’s more important? Freedom. Or Eddie. 

Eddie is worried he knows the answer. 

"I'm sorry I allowed things like what your father has done, to happen. But not anymore. When it was me getting hurt it was one thing. But I won't let it be you.." Richie's eyes, knit together, his thoughts are jumbled up in his head and Eddie wishes he knew what he was thinking, wish he could jump inside his mind and iron out all the confusion for him. 

But Eddie is powerless, when it comes to what happens in life. That seems to be a running theme huh? Being powerless, a useless, sad, pitiful human. A kid who can’t even save his dad. A boy who can’t even keep all his friends. A person who can’t even ease the pain plaguing the love of his life. 

So, as life will have it, Richie has to leave in a few weeks. 

And just to add to all of that, like a sadistic cherry on top of the whole ordeal, Eddie finds out during that time, his mother also wants to move. 

“Eddie-bear! It will be great. The air will be cleaner, the towns will be safer, and maybe you’ll make some real good friends.” She comments, standing at his doorway, ignoring Richie and Mike sitting next to Eddie on his bed. 

“When?” Eddie questions, not used to his mother being the most sporadic of individuals when it came to making huge decisions like moving. 

But he sees the lines on her face, the crinkle in her eyes, and the tug of a frown on her lips. The way her fists tighten when Richie is near Eddie. This has always been a long time coming. Ever since his dad had died. The town, the people, they were suffocating. And his mother of all people, would love a excuse to get Eddie far away from Richie and everyone else. To try and cure her dirty, corrupt boy. Because the salt and ice doesn’t seem to be working. He supposes she hopes that maybe leaving this town. Eddie will forget he was ever gay, and madly in love with Richie Tozier. 

As if that could ever happen. 

But, the worse part of this, was knowing that now, they all really were going to be separated, completely. To say Mike takes the news well. Would be a lie. A plain old lie. Everyone not calling, mailing, making any effort to contact them, effects him just as much as it does Richie and Eddie, he is just better at hiding it.

Richie, watches as Mike swings alone in the hammock, the club house now so empty it feels foreign, not theirs, a empty shell of a home. No more of Beverly’s tapestries and fairy lights, it’s not as neat and organized without Stan to tidy things up, the place is falling apart and Ben can’t repair anything. Bill no longer brings everyone soda pops, and hogs the beanbag chair. 

Now it’s just dark, and dusty. A gloomy excuse for a hangout. 

Eddie stands next to Richie, rubbing his back, encouraging him to speak. And Mike watches, from across the room, dark bags under his eyes, tired, and weak from all the tears, he obviously hasn’t been able to get much sleep, to eat or take care of himself. Eddie wants to protect Mike, hold him and sing him that lullaby his grandmother used to play for him. Richie then speaks, “Mikey...” he starts, moving forward to sit next to him. 

“I....I’m sorry. Fuck man, I really am. I feel horrible. for abandoning you Mikey.” Richie begins, but Eddie cuts him off. 

“We are not abandoning him Richie. No one is abandoning anyone.” Eddie reminds, crossing his arms over his chest, Richie scoffs, turning back around to face Eddie, “oh really? Then what do you call what everyone else did? Going on a field trip?” 

“They didn’t abandon us, I know they didn’t they wouldn’t do that. They are just busy.” Eddie tries. 

“Busy? ALL of them are busy? Too busy to call our house phones when they; KNOW, our phone numbers? Too busy to write a simple letter? What the fuck could they be possibly doing, that would make them so busy Ed’s? They LEFT us here, forgotten us!” 

“No they HAVEN’T!” Eddie feels his face heat up, and his legs tremble, he glares at Richie, “they could never forget us, ever! And they didn’t abandon us! They couldn’t. How could they? They can’t, forget me. They can’t leave me. They can’t. Not like— no, they wouldn’t do that to me again.” 

Richie pauses, eyebrows rising in shock, eyes trained into Eddie’s face, and his anger noticeably softens. He steps forward, and cups Eddie’s cheek, being gentle with his touch, his eyes are soft, sad, “no, of course you’re right. You’re right Ed’s. They wouldn’t.” 

It takes a few moments for everyone to settle down, but soon they all three squeeze into the hammock. 

“Besides.” Eddie says quietly, “even if they did abandoned us, I would never do that to you two. I could never forget you. Ever.” Eddie promises, resting his head on Mike’s shoulder, as Richie plants a kiss on Eddie’s cheek. 

Mike sighs audibly, watching his hands as he fiddles with a piece of straw. “I hope.” His voice is so small, so tiny it breaks Eddie’s heart. 

“Well.” Richie starts again, remembering the whole reason for this group meeting. “It’s my last week in Derry, so...” Richie grabs his backpack, that he had insisted on lugging all the way to the club house so they could have privacy. “Eddie. Mikey—“ he begins, pulling out some metal contraption that’s pointed at the end, and powered by triple A batteries. “I want you guys, to give me, a tattoo.” He announces, and Eddie feels like his eyes are going to pop out of his head. 

“WHAT.” Eddie begins, feeling his lungs punch the back of his throat, but Mike laughs softly, reaching towards the needle death trap and examining it. “Only if you give me one too Rich.” Mike answers, causing Richie to grin. 

“WHAT.” Eddie repeats, now staring at Mike bewildered, “Mike, PLEASE don’t tell me you support this stupid idea?” 

“Hey?” Richie asks sounding offended, “why is this stupid?” 

Eddie pinches the bridge of his nose, shaking his head. “The idea isn’t stupid, it’s the method you have chosen—“ Eddie shys away, when the death machine is passed back to Richie. 

“Do you, not realize how dumb this is? First off, I can guarantee that’s not sterile, wherever you got it— by the way, WHERE did you get that?” 

“I got this from Jacob who works at the tattoo shop down fifth street, it’s called a tattoo gun by the way.” Richie supplies. 

Eddie groans, “second off, none of us are even remotely a professional in anyway when it comes to tattooing, someone could get seriously hurt.” Eddie watches as Richie fiddles with the tattoo gun, he flinches when Richie tries to poke Eddie with it, not wanting that non-sterile needle anywhere near him. 

“That’s the fun of it Ed’s. The element of danger.” Richie wiggles his brows, taunting Eddie, but he just stares at him. 

“There’s no fucking way I’m letting either of you tattoo each other.” 

...

Mike and Richie begin tattooing each other, with no regard to any input Eddie makes, they both sit on the floor, testing out the ink, and the intensity of the feeling of the needle. 

Eddie watches from a far, cringing at the whole ordeal, mentally preparing himself to take one, if not both of them to the ER. 

Richie volunteers to go first, and Eddie feels shaky, worry filling his body to the brim and then spilling over. 

“We should get matching sets.” Mike suggests, and Richie grins wide and happy. Nodding along and brainstorming with what would be a good idea. Richie babbles and laughs, cracking jokes and getting legitimately excited. Eddie’s nerves begin to calm, just slightly, eyes landing on the smile on Richie’s face. It has been so long since Richie has been able to smile. Genuinely smile. He supposes it’s because, a tattoo, will cement his memories of the town, of everyone. Of Eddie. 

Eddie moves closer, to sit next to Richie and observe over his shoulder. He can feel Richie look to him quickly, and grin even wider with satisfaction. Eddie passes them both alcohol wipes, in attempt to at least give them the best chances of not getting a infection and dying. 

After hours of testing things out, and figuring out the techniques, both Mike and Richie, get messy, but still legible writing on their wrists, a matching set. Eddie almost about faints when Richie’s tattoo started bleeding, his skin is all irritated and red, but when he finally looks at the, ‘Lucky Seven’ on both of their wrists, he feels a warm sense of hope replace his worry. Maybe. Just maybe he won’t be forgotten. 

“You still have a chance Ed’s? Wanna get tatted up?” Richie waves around the tattoo gun, after Eddie bandaged up their wrists with disinfectant and gauze he had tucked away in his fannypack, making sure to thoroughly clean and bandage their tattoos, the best he could. 

“Absolutely not, and definitely not after both of you just used it, your guy’s blood is all over that?” Not to mention his mother would kill him. 

“Says the guy who did a blood pack with a rusty piece of glass.” 

“Hey, it’s not my fault Bill is so persuasive.” Eddie fires back, looking down at the scar on his palm. “If it was Bill who asked me to get a tattoo, maybe it would be a different story, but for you? Richie my dear, absolutely not.” 

Richie sighs, flopping over Eddie and groaning into his shoulder, “but EEEEED’ssss.” He whines like a child, “you’re not fun.” 

Eddie smiles, pressing a swift kiss to Richie’s temple. “I know.”   
————————

“Okay, so mom found out the phone number to the place before hand, so you two have it.” Richie says to Eddie, his head tucked underneath Eddie’s chin as they both lay in his bed, curled up on one another. “Well that’s good. It will bring Mike a lot of peace knowing we can be the ones to contact you.” 

“Call me, right away, like even before you think I get there. Because I wanna talk to you.” Richie says, burying his face into Eddie’s chest, and inhaling deep, breathing in all that Eddie smell. Eddie laughs, leaning down to brush his face into Richie’s hair. It smells so perfect, and familiar. Richie smells like what happiness feels like. 

Richie presses himself into Eddie, like if he tried hard enough, they could become one, and never have to leave each other. 

“It sucks.” Richie mumbles, and Eddie looks down at him, “what sucks?” 

“That we finally can be together.” Richie rises up, so they are face to face, his nose pressed to Eddie’s, eyes resting on his, “after waiting for years and years, we finally made it to a point where we can be together. And now, we both have to move.” 

“I know.” Eddie mumbles back, scooting his face closer to Richie’s, “it’s so unfair. We lost so much time. We could have done so much..” 

Richie smiles slightly, moving forward, until their lips touch, “we can try to make up for lost time?” He mumbles, and Eddie smiles back, “I’d like that.” 

Tonight, is their last night together, in the morning, when Richie’s father goes to work, him and his mother will leave, their luggage and other things all are already, secretly packed away in his mother’s car. 

They shift in Eddie’s bed, Richie rolling on top of him, slotting himself between Eddie’s legs leaning up, until their chests press together. Their kisses, like always start off slow and soft, then turn needy and wanton in just a few minutes. But Eddie can tell Richie is taking it slow this time, sliding his tongue along the roof of Eddie’s mouth, savoring the taste. 

Eddie’s tongue presses back, swirling around Richie’s, feeling content and glad he doesn’t taste like cigarettes today. 

Eddie intertwines his fingers into Richie’s hair, tugging at it so he can deepen the kiss. Their lips slide greedy, and demanding, wanting more. They only break away when Eddie needs to breath. Richie moves his head down, to press soft kisses along Eddie’s neck. 

“No matter, what happens Eddie—“ Richie says between kisses, “my love,” Richie bites slightly on Eddie’s pulse point and it makes him gasp, “I will always, always find my way back to you." 

Eddie catches his breath, smiling fondly up at Richie, moving to run his fingers through his hair, tucking a rogue piece behind his ear. “And I promise, I will always find my way back to you.” 

They stay like that for a brief moment, looking into each other’s eyes, searching for the truth. Eddie smiles, running his hands down Richie’s shoulders and sides, he can tell when Richie realizes Eddie means what he said. 

Richie surges forward, pressing hot, loving, longing kisses to Eddie’s cheeks and neck, nipping slightly, and laughing when Eddie flicks him. “No hickeys! You know my mom will see. I’ll give you some instead.” 

“Please do.” Richie grumbles, moving over to allow Eddie to get on top, straddling his lap, and kissing back, sucking silly hickeys all along Richie’s jaw and neck, because he knows it makes him happy. Richie groans, gripping Eddie’s hips, allowing his head to fall back so Eddie has better access to his canvas of choice. 

They giggle and laugh, running their hands up each other’s shirts, to just touch skin, and get more of each other. Eddie finally moves back up to Richie’s mouth when he is satisfied with the sufficient marking left all over Richie. They kiss long and tenderly, soaking in every moment they have left with each other, every taste, every movement, every feeling and gasp they can manage to draw out from one another. 

Almost the entire night, they kiss, and press against each other, letting their hands roam, even getting a little bit more bold then they had before. They fall asleep, in each other’s arms, holding each other tighter then they ever had before. Eddie falls asleep to the wonderful sound of Richie’s breathing, and the feeling of his warn body wrapped around his. 

When morning comes, it’s hard to peel off each other, they kiss, and touch, and repeat last nights activities for as long as they can, before Mike shows up so they can walk Richie home, and bid him officially goodbye. 

Eddie and Richie hold hands the entire walk there, and before Richie’s mom leaves the house they give each other one, final kiss, with Richie’s arms wrapped around Eddie’s shoulders and Eddie’s around Richie’s waist, they press into each other and kiss so hard their mouth turn numb and red from the intensity of it. They lap at each other’s mouths until they have to pull away, when Richie knows his mom will come out with the last of their luggage. 

Eddie hugs Richie one last time, and then Mike; who tears up, causing Richie to start crying as well. Eddie, realizes the ringing in his ears are back. 

Richie’s mother packs away the last of their things into the trunk, and lets Richie hug them ‘for the last time’, for the forth time. 

Eddie and Mike watch Richie get into the car, and watch, as the car drives out of the drive way, and onto the street. Richie waves at them through the window, and they wave back, standing with each other, watching his car drive down the street like they had with everyone else that summer. 

Eddie feels dread fill his tummy, watching as the car gets smaller and smaller, but then suddenly, the car stops at the the end of the street, and the passenger door flings open. Eddie is taken aback, and so is Mike, bewildered as Richie quickly jumps out, and say something to his mother. He then start sprinting down the street to them, at full speed. 

Eddie prepares himself, but he still isn’t prepared when Richie finally reaches him, and jumps onto Eddie full force. He falls back onto the grass, trying to catch his breath when Richie kisses him again. It knocks the wind out of him, and Richie just laughs, pressing his face into Eddie’s neck. “I forgot to tell you I love you.” 

Eddie stares at him, shocked and amused, a huge goofy grin tugging at his lips. “Oh really?” 

“Yeah, Spaghetti. That’s like the most important thing, how could I forget?” Richie huffs, running his nose over Eddie’s cheek. 

“I don’t know how Rich.” 

“Well. I love you.” 

“I love you too.” 

“Good.” Richie grumbles back, and gives him one, last, last, kiss. 

They get up, and chuckle, Richie then gives Mike a big crushing hug, before finally running back to his car. 

“I love you!” Richie screams, when he’s halfway to the vehicle. Eddie instantly blushes, quickly looking around the neighborhood to see if anyone was around to hear. It looks safe, but he still felt a tinge of fear. Still, he yells back at the top of his lungs, “I LOVE YOU TOO!” 

Richie’s booming laugh echos down the road, and finally, he is in his car. And gone. Out of Derry, and away to somewhere better. 

Eddie and Mike, have a sleep over, might as well. They only have each other now. 

That night, while Richie was off on the road with his mom, Eddie writes a letter to him, telling him about everything and anything that comes to his mind. What he doesn't know, is that he won’t ever get one back.   
——————

Eddie felt like he was vibrating at the friquency of a plucked guitar string, as he shoved the last of his clothes into the bag on his bed frame, his mattress already in the moving truck. 

He brings the last of his belongings to the car, his mom already waiting in the driver’s seat. Mike sits on the curb in front of his house, well, now no longer his house. Eddie turns back and looks at it, the house he grew up in, the one he lived in with his father. The one where he invited his first friends to, all those years ago, Stan, Bill, Richie. The one where Richie would climb into his window, and kiss him when it was dark out. 

The one where his had died. Where his mother abused him, and controlled him. Where he had to spend night’s crying in the bathtub, with burns on his thighs, and burns on his heart. 

Mike hugs him, crushing him in his tight grasp. Eddie laughs, holding Mike’s hand tight. “Where will you go? If you leave?” Eddie asks, and Mike just laughs, looking up to the sky. 

“I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to leave. But you’ll be the first to know Eddie, if I do. But I think I’ll just wait here. For all of you.” Mike says, hopeful, and bright. 

Eddie smiles. “Yeah, I like that idea.” 

He gets into his car, and buckets up lest his mother throw a fit. And they head off. Mike waves him goodbye, and Eddie feels sad. A deep sadness in his chest, filling all the numbness that was there before. 

As Eddie watches Derry grow smaller and smaller, as Richie, and everyone else become physically farther and farther away. The ringing persists, it's loud and determined, so painfully high pitched Eddie feels like his head is going to explode. And then...

The ringing suddenly stops. It's quiet, calm. The empty silence, is louder then the ringing ever was. For a movement. There is a long, silent pause. The air around his head is clear, there's no longer that insufferable ringing. 

Then the numbness, he has felt, the empty feeling, the dread turns into heart wrenching pain, and he grips his chest, holding in the loud ripping sobs racking through his chest, trying to hold back the way his body trembles and shakes so violently and he cries. He cries after not being able to for months. Harder then he has ever before. In that moment he realizes it's all real. The tears spill from his eyes, cascading down his cheeks and finally, he cries. So hard he looses his breath, but conceals it the best he can, so his mother won't worry. 

He preferred the ringing, he preferred the numbness. Anything was better then this. Gasping for air, body shaking with the realization that, it all wasn't just some fever dream, that the next morning everything would be okay, and everything would go back to how it was before. No instead it was real. So fucking real his heart couldn't take it. He scratched desperately at the insides of his arms, folding in on himself to cry, quietly, allow his sorrow overflow. He can’t stop his body from trembling. Weeks of pent up tears, anxiety, fear, sadness, it just pours out of him in violent bursts. He wishes Richie was here... 

Quickly, he reached into his carryon bag, finding his notebook, just as they past the, 'now leaving Derry' sign at the outskirts of the town. He writes Richie a letter, telling him how much he loves him. How much he won't forget. 

Even if Eddie has to leave them. All of them. 

Beverley, Ben, Stan, Bill, Mike and finally, the hardest— Richie. 

He won’t forget. He is sure of it.   
——————

It’s about 19 hours of straight driving, but they finally get to their destination. The moving truck company starts filing out, bringing in boxes and things. But all Eddie can think about, is getting to his phone, the one his mom promised would be inside the new house already installed and ready. 

He runs inside and finds it installed, and sitting on the ground. Good enough. 

He flips open his notebook, and finds the number Richie gave him, and dials it into the phone. 

It rings a few times, and then, much to Eddie’s relief Richie answers. 

“Hello?” He asks, and Eddie laughs out of joy. 

“Hi Richie!” He coo’s, and there is a slight pause, like Richie is trying to search his brain for something. “Uhhh—“ he begins, but then another pause and, “Oh! Eddie! Oh, oh, Eddie, honey, my love.” He says all in a quick jumble, like he was trying to find his words, like everything was coming back to him. 

They talk for the rest of the night, passing back and forth, ‘I love you’s and telling each other about their new places. After that, they call, everyday. For the first week, it’s usually Richie calling first, excited to talk to Eddie. After the first week, it was then Eddie making the most effort to call as much as possible. It was a Wednesday when Eddie had called, and Richie picked up like normal, then—

“Whose this?” Richie questions, and Eddie laughs softly, “funny Rich, really.” 

He twirls the cord in his fingers, smiling fondly at Richie’s joke. “What?” Richie replies, seemingly confused. 

Eddie groans, “Oh Rich, babe, are you high? It’s me Eddie.” Eddie reminds, rolling his eyes at his boyfriend. There is a short pause, and Eddie looks down at the phone confused. 

“Do I know you?” Richie asks soft and honestly. And Eddie feels his heart sink. “Richie. That’s not funny anymore. It’s me. Eddie. You know, Eds?” 

His breath catches in his throat when Richie replies with, “I don’t know anyone named Eddie.”

Eddie feels his heart rate pick up, and his eyes begin to water. He feels himself tremble when Richie doesn’t say anything else. He panics and hangs up, not being able to deal with Richie right now, and whatever seems to be wrong with him. 

He’s sure tomorrow he’ll be back to normal. 

Eddie runs up the stairs to his room, and lays in bed, letting the weight of Richie’s words finally process, he turns into his back, and grabs his notebook, looking over the letters he wrote for Richie. He closes his eyes softly, and breathes deeply, before allowing the tears to fall. 

How important is it, to leave a impact? Must we? Really in the long run? Do we have to make a footprint in the world, for people to know we were even there? Is it even important for people to know we are here in the first place?

When we tread through life, and carve a path into the sand, and we think, no one else has ever felt the way I have felt. No one else has walked the footsteps that I've walked. 

That when you push aside the tall grass, and press forward, walking into some unknown, pushing for something to happen, hoping to find the end of the field. Then what? 

Is the path we are making, really all our own? 

Only for us to die, and leave this life, realizing that field we have been walking through, is so insignificantly small in size to the rest of the earth.

Only for us to realize that there is only one path in the sand this entire time. The one that every human has walked, and ever will. 

A tiny trail, leading from one end to the other. Life, and death. 

And when reduced to that unadorned simplicity? Fear cannot exist. 

But we fear. God do we fear. Sickness, feeling pain, hurting others, heights, clowns, fast cars, the ocean, failing others, failing yourself. 

Death. 

So really, no one is walking towards death. No that isn't the destination. What we really are doing in that sand, is finding the moments that keep us going. 

Like the touch of a hand. The breeze on your skin. The smell of the lake. Or the smile of Richie Tozier. The way he makes your stomach bubble over with excitement when he scrunches up his nose, or how he snorts when he laughs. The way his eyes fill you with so much hope, you forget to feel sad. Eddie, knows, that he will always remember him. 

Right? 

Those are the flowers amongst the grass. And you collect them as you go. 

There is truly no legacy for us to leave. No one, will be remembered completely once billions of years past. But who cares about being remembered by those you'll never meet? 

All you can hope for, is to be remembered by those you love. And know now. 

Oh but how life is so cruel like that sometimes. 

Because slowly. He forgets too.


End file.
